A Walk With My Fathers
I was a Christian for about a year when I faced the most difficult day of my life. The phone rang and I heard these words, “Your dad has had a stroke.” I just fell to the floor weeping. How could this possibly be? He was only 49 years old. He was healthier now than he had been in a long time. I had just given him a kidney. This was supposed to change his quality of life. I cried out to God all the way to the hospital the only words I could form, “Oh my God.”
When I got to the hospital my heart sank deeper as I stared at the man who had been my protector. He now lay with paralysis. The only thing he could speak was, “I don’t know.”
The doctors requested a treatment that would remove the blood clot if that was what it was. If it was not a blood clot that caused the stroke, he could bleed to death. The decision had to be made right away. In addition, the treatment could cause his new kidney to stop working. We chose the treatment. We expected the treatment to snap him out of all the symptoms he was suffering from. But it didn’t.
They wanted to look at his heart to see if the blockage had come from there. This test could also cause his new kidney to stop. After much debate the test was performed. They determined he had endocarditis. If he didn’t have heart valve replacement he would continue to have strokes until it lead to his demise. This was necessary, but the burden of the kidney rose again. It most likely could not survive this type of trauma.
The words he spoke many months before rang in our ears, “I won’t ever go on dialysis again, I’d rather die.” We decided to allow the heart valve replacement. I felt confident that his kidney would be fine, after all, I had prayed about it before we agreed to the transplant. I knew it was God’s will. In fact, I prayed feverously, and felt confident he’d survive. After all, why would God have allowed the transplant in the first place?
My dad survived the heart valve surgery. His kidney began to fail, but made a comeback. For the next several months he worked hard at rehabilitating. After months of rehab we brought him home. He was a total care patient. He still suffered with his speech but somehow my mom and I could communicate with him very well. Two days before his 50th birthday and planned arrival home, he suffered a bowel rupture.
It was impossible for him to survive this. He had no immune system because of the anti-rejection medication he took for his kidney. Those were very dark days. They put him in an induced coma because the pain was so severe. I remember that thanksgiving was very difficult to be thankful. He was still clinging to life around Christmas. That is when I said the salvation prayer with him. He couldn’t speak it, but pointed to Heaven. I spoke it and he shook his head. He was ready to go Home. I cried as I told him it was all right for him to go. I’d see him in heaven again one day. I told him of the feasting there (he hadn’t eaten in a long time). I told him of his heavenly body. He kept pointing to Heaven. He didn’t leave right then, our Master had not called him home just yet. He hung in there for three more weeks. He was gravely ill. All his organs were shutting down. I literally watched a part of myself die. I prayed God would release him from the pain. It seemed a bit selfish too; I couldn’t stand to watch him suffer. It was killing me inside. The Lord graciously took him home.
That is not the end of my turmoil. I was angry with God. It just didn’t seem fair. I wasn’t afraid to express it either. I remember talking with a pastor telling him how angry I was at God. He told me it was ok, God could handle it. I gave God the cold shoulder. I changed churches for a while. I didn’t want anyone asking how my dad was since we had been praying for him for so long. Also, I didn’t want to be held accountable for my attendance.
I half-heartedly attended a new church for a while. I think I probably hit a service or two for a few months. I finally went back to my home church. It was difficult to answer the questions about my dad. It seemed every sermon I heard I cried. It was a difficult year.
I remember the pivotal points for me so clearly. I had complained God did not answer my prayer. A mature Christian told me that it wasn’t necessarily that God did not answer prayer; He just didn’t answer my prayer. How about my dad’s prayer? I had never thought of it that way. He had pointed Home. He wouldn’t have wanted to be invalid the rest of his life. As if my prayer was priority over his! That touched my heart. Then God gave me a vision of my dad. My dad had his head thrown back in such joy and laughter. God had so graciously comforted my heart with that vision. I knew he was happy. I knew deep in my heart he was much better off. I had been so selfish trying to keep him here. He then gave me a vision of the deep valley I had been in and the high mountain top to come. It was then that I opened my heart back up to God. I allowed Him to comfort me, the fatherless, and allowed Him to be my Abba. It is through this experience that I have grown closer to my Abba and I no longer mourn as the world mourns.
Theresa
