Heart Beat

Shattered...

Like you've never been before
The life you knew
In a thousand pieces on the floor

"Your husband's heart is very damaged," said Dr. Hoffman. She stood next to our chairs in the trauma waiting room, still wearing a blue surgical gown. "His aorta was crushed by the steering wheel. And he's sustained a lot of other damage in his chest and pelvis. But, he's survived the surgery. There may be other complications later on, but for now he is stable."

My daughter and I were numb after eight hours spent in molded plastic chairs, eight hours of twisting our hands and praying. During the evening and early morning hours, friends and church members had stopped by to pray and wait with us. Now, at 2AM, it was just Bonnie and me and our minister.

"You can see him for a moment," said Dr. Hoffman. "Then you all need to go get some sleep. Don't set the alarm for work or school. Just sleep. We'll call you if anything happens."

Ron lay on the stretcher in the recovery room, still and gray, wires and tubes connected everywhere to his body. A screen above showed his heart beat in glowing green. I touched his right shoulder, one of the few places on his body without an electrode. "Stay with me," I whispered to him. "Tell your heart to keep beating."

And words fall short in times like these
When this world drives you to your knees
You think you're never gonna get back
To the you that used to be

Tell your heart to beat again

Close your eyes and breathe it in

"Is he still alive?" asked the voice on the other end of the phone. "I just got the  message you left. Mom, tell me, is Dad still alive?"

Bonnie, Allen, and I had huddled together in my bed for a few hours, trying to sleep away some of the fears we were feeling. One of us would drift off for a few moments, but inevitably we would wake up and grab for each other. Thoughts ran through my head: What now? How would we get through this? Could I be strong enough for Ron, for our children?

Tears streamed down my face as I responded to my son, away at college. "Yes," I said. "Dad's still alive. When we left him at a couple hours ago, his heart was still beating."

Let the shadows fall away

Step into the light of grace

Yesterday's a closing door
You don't live there anymore
Say goodbye to where you've been
And tell your heart to beat again.

"The surgery on his pancreas was successful," said Dr. Harbison. "He'll be on a feeding tube for a while, and gradually we'll reintroduce solid foods. But his heart has become enlarged. It's not working at full capacity. He'll spend some time in the telemetry unit, but I think he is going to need a pace-maker. We'll watch him for a few days until he's stronger." 

I made notes on the pad I kept in my purse as he talked. Terms once foreign to me--pancreas, spleen, telemetry- were now part of my everyday vocabulary. "I'm assuming you will give him a diet to follow when he's released, things that are easy to digest and that will keep his blood sugar level. When can I see him?"

"In about half an hour," he said. "We've had some trouble bringing him out of the anesthesia."

"It always happens," I said.

He paused for a moment and checked Ron's chart. "I see this is his--fourth surgery in the last year? This must be hard on you."

"It is," I agreed. "But we're a strong family. The kids and I figure it out as we go along." I smiled as I put the notebook back in my purse. "As long as his heart keeps beating, we'll keep fighting."

Beginning

Just let that word wash over you

It's alright now
Love's healing hands have pulled you through
So get back up, take step one
Leave the darkness, feel the sun
'Cause your story's far from over
And your journey's just begun

"Your pulse is very weak. Mr. Cobourn, I think you're going into A-fib. Are you with me? Stay with me!" shouted the nurse.

I grabbed Ron's hand. "Come on, honey. Keep breathing." I turned to the nurse who was busily raising the bars

on the stretcher Ron laid on. "Shall we call 911?" I asked her. "Do we need the paddles? Is his pace maker working?"

"It will be quicker to run him across the street to Temple," she said. "I'll push. Go hold the elevator!" 

I picked up Ron's things and ran down the hallway of the medical building on Broad Street, determined to stop traffic if I had to in order to get Ron into the Emergency Room across the street. "I'll call them that we're on our way!" I said as I furiously pushed the button for the elevator. The nurse arrived, breathless with her exertion, and the doors slid open. I leaned over my groggy husband and whispered in his ear, "Tell your heart to keep beating. Tell it not to stop."

Tell your heart to beat again

Close your eyes and breathe it in

Let the shadows fall away
Step into the light of grace

"It's his heart" said the voice on my cell phone. "As you know, it's terribly scarred from so many surgeries and infections. And it's only working at 25% capacity. Dr. Araidne needs to do an ablation but since you have medical power of attorney..."

"I know," I said as I opened up my desk drawer and picked up my purse. My elementary  students were  out on the playground and the Reading lesson was on the board. 

"How soon can you be here?"

I checked the clock on the wall. " Maybe 30 minutes," I said. "I'm just up on Academy Road. I can get to Hahnemann pretty quickly."

"Okay. We'll let the surgeon know."

I grabbed my purse and locked the door. I would run by the office and tell the secretary I was leaving for the hospital; my reading students would have to stay in their classroom. Quickly, I strode over to the parking lot and got into my car. "Tell your heart to keep beating," I whispered to my husband. "Just a little while longer."

Let every heartbreak
And every scar
Be a picture that reminds you
Who has carried you this far

"We did everything we could," said the EMT. "There is nothing else we can do. His heart just..stopped. Between one beat and the next." He laid a hand on my arm. "I wish we could have done more."

I took a deep breath. "He's been through a lot. Too many hospitalizations. Too many surgeries. Nineteen years of too much for one man to deal with." I let the tears fall from my face. "He stayed as long as he could. He kept his heart beating for us."

The EMT bent to put the instruments back into his bag. "The medical examiner will be along later. But I think cause of death is obvious." He straightened up. "You took good care of him, Mrs. Cobourn. Never doubt that." He sighed. "Frankly, he shouldn't have lived this long. He did because he loved you."

'Cause love sees farther than you ever could
In this moment heaven's working
Everything for your good

"Dad's okay now," I said to my three children, huddled together on the deck out back while the EMT's finished up. "He's not in pain anymore. I promised him...I promised him we would all be okay. I promised him we would  move on with our lives. I promised him we would always remember him."

Tell your heart to beat again

Close your eyes and breathe it in

Let the shadows fall away

"Good-bye," I whispered as I leaned over the casket. "It will take some time, I know. But I want you to know I will be okay. Your love will always be part of me. My heart will beat for you."

Say goodbye to where you've been

And tell your heart to beat again

YOU GET WHAT YOU GET. (And you don't get upset.)

²⁰ Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, ²¹ being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised.

Romans 4:20-21

 

“I want a purple sticker,” said Astrid.

“There are no purple ones left,” said my daughter, teacher of this precocious two-year-old. ““There are green and yellow ones.”

Astrid stamped her foot. “But I want a purple one!”

‘Well,” said my patient daughter, “we don’t always get what we want. Sometimes we get what we get and we don’t get upset.”

While this philosophy is reinforced often in the pre-school classroom my daughter teaches, Astrid—and her age mates—don’t always agree. Astrid folded her arms across her chest and got upset. Very upset. So upset she was sent to the time-out chair.

Are we ever like Astrid? I know I am. I tell God all about the wonderful plans I have for my life, if only He would get on board with them. He tells me that He’s got better plans for me. In fact, the words from Jeremiah 29:11-13 hang on a plaque in my living room. But honestly, when I’m trying to juggle three jobs and find a way to pay for ever-increasing medical costs, I want to stamp my foot like Astrid and get my own way.

And I’ll just bet I’m not alone. The Bible is chockablock of people who didn’t wait for God’s plan to come to fruition but rushed ahead of Him. Sarah, wife of Abraham whose faith in God’s promises of many descendants never wavered, didn’t side with her husband. She took matters into her own hands by giving Hagar, her maid, to Abraham as a concubine. The result? Broken relationships and exile.

In Genesis 27:8-17, Rebekah conspired to have her husband Isaac bless Jacob when the birthright should have gone to Esau, the first born. The result was more broken relationships and exile. Rebekah never saw her beloved son Jacob again. And in Genesis 30:1, Rachel, wife of the banished Jacob, became discouraged at her lack of ability to conceive and gave her husband her maid servant as concubine. Guess what? Broken relationships and exile.

Yet the vast majority of Americans say they trust God and depend on Him for help. Writing for  The New York Times in 2010, Tara Parker-Pope reported on two surveys conducted to determine how people’s health was affected by their belief in God and His role in their lives. Data obtained from The Baylor Religion Institute Survey and the Work, Stress, Health Survey indicated that 82% of the respondents regularly depended on God for help and 71% believed the events in their lives were influenced by God.

So if everybody’s doing it, why can’t we?

The answer is surprisingly simple and has to do with something we all want: control. Just like it’s really hard for me to be the passenger in the car—even though I hate to drive—it’s difficult to totally give control of our lives over to a Higher Power, even if we claim we are. We might say we trust God and depend on Him-and 82% of us do—but when it comes right down to it, we’re a bit scared to put it to the test. We’d like a safety net under that ledge, please, and perhaps the firemen standing by.

But what if we REALLY trusted God? Not just said so on Sunday and went our own way on Monday. What if we whole-heartedly chose to believe in Hebrews 11:1 and put our faith in our pockets each day along with our cell phones? What if, instead of stamping our feet and crossing our arms and being upset we didn’t get a purple sticker, we decided to be grown-ups about it?

On Sunday, Pastor Aaron talked to us about having real conversations—not grumbles—with God. After all, He can take it. These are his five suggestions:

1.      Stop pretending. While 82% of Americans say they believe God plays an active role in their lives, the same percentage are likely to hold onto their disappointments and challenges lest anyone think they’re not trusting God. Let’s let God search our hearts (Psalm 139:23-24) and let’s share the truth about how we feel.

2.      Confess when you’re wrong. We all act stupid sometimes and we all want our own way. God already knows whatever you’re going to confess, be it to Him or another person.

3.      Tell God how you feel. It’s okay to be disappointed you didn’t get the job or win the lottery. David was honest with God about his disappointments! Once you get rid of the negative emotions, God can fill it with positive things.

4.      Tell God you love Him. That doesn’t mean you always understand where He leads you. But reminding yourself of God’s attributes will remind you of why you should trust Him.

5.      Tell God you’re puzzled. Life doesn’t always look good. Sometimes a fish looks like a gorilla. Sometimes we can’t tell what the heck it looks like. But we can trust that God has made it for us. So it’s got to be awesome.

And back to Astrid, who spent the allotted minutes in time-out and decided that a yellow sticker would be okay. So my daughter affixed a yellow sticker to Astrid’s chart and the child went off to play. The next day, when sticker time came around, my daughter held out the choices to Astrid. The little girl studied them for a moment, then put her arms around her teacher and said, “You choose. I trust you, Miss Bonnie.”

Good for you, Astrid! I’m trying to learn to trust God that way, too, no matter what color sticker He gives me.