Here I Go Again

I stood-up today, looked down at the floor, and saw my feet. My size 13 quad-E’s were right down there at the ends – one each – of my legs (which I could also see, but I didn’t want to brag about it).

You may be asking yourself, “Why in the world is this such an important event?” I mean, you can probably see your feet too, right? Well, a few short weeks ago, I couldn’t. Not without some sort of reflective device (like a shoe store mirror) on the floor in front of me. Stop laughing!

It’s true. I was indeed round and anything below “the equator” (as it were) was definitely out of sight and out of mind. Heck, Christopher Columbus wouldn’t have even had to take the ship out of dry dock with me around to prove his point:

“Round? You bet! Just look at this…”

But now I have lost – at last count – fourteen pounds. It may be more than that, but I have not been near an interstate weigh station in a few days. My rings keep falling off though – that’s a good sign.

As I continue to melt, I feel stronger. I feel better. I feel younger. Okay, I know, I’m really pushing it now. It’s true though, even if I won’t run a 5-K any time soon. Just know I’m running it in my brain as we speak. Tomorrow: hurdles!

Actually, tomorrow I get to relive the events of May 16th (see my post “Sacred Heart” for more details) all over again. Except I’ll be doing it all without having a heart attack this time around. Thank God for that! But as far as the heart surgery goes, it’ll be a complete rerun. At least that’s what the Cardiologist told me.

He said, “Are you ready for a repeat performance?” Uh… no! Do I have to?

The worst part of it will be lying around the hospital recovering afterwards. In May I had to lie on my back, stiff as a board, for nine hours. This was because I had to wait for my pressure to drop and my blood to clot. That way they could remove the catheter from my thigh without all of my blood leaking out. I guess that wouldn’t have been such a good thing?

That’s another fun story in and of itself…

My overnight nurse was very easy on the eyes. Honestly, she was quite stunning. In fact, all of my nurses were good motivation to really take my time healing, if you catch the way I’ve drifted? I had to text message my best friend up in Chicago to gloat, because when he had back surgery a few years ago, he was treated to a nursing staff that resembled the offensive line of the Washington Redskins. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!

But I was really enjoying the whole fawning over the old guy thing until she came into my room to inform me that she would be the one removing the catheter (from my groin area) and that she’d have to put her entire body weight on top of me – on top of the wound – for at least a full thirty minutes.

She said, “I have to make sure the wound clots properly, so I’ll be pushing as hard as I can against you to…” Sorry, I lost track about there.

Say you have to do what? Are you even gonna buy me dinner first?

You know, there have been times in my life when all that she said would have been really great news to me. This wasn’t one of those times.

She did exactly what she said she was going to do. I hated every millisecond of that thirty-hours, uh… I mean, minutes. And can I just move-on with my life please!

Not yet…

So, here I go again! Back into the hospital. Back to the operating room. And yes, another catheter. Ah… So many nurses, so little time. Okay. Give me a break! I was on a lot of morphine at the time.

I have had a lot of time to think about… stuff… since my first heart surgery twenty-seven days ago. Stuff like friends, family, my church family, my work family, my students, and all that has happened to me not only since the heart attack, not just since November of 2007 when I became a New Creation, but my whole life. I have been able to see God’s love shining through it all. I have been blessed all along the way – even if I never knew it at any given moment – I know it now.

A lot of folks dwell on the negatives of life, but that route is so defeating. God doesn’t promise a smooth ride, or a safe journey. To expect it is a let-down. He also doesn’t cause tragedy, illness, failure, or natural disaster. So many preach it, but that thinking isn’t supported by the Word. Bad things happen to good people. God happens to us all!

We all face the impossible. We are all challenged in our lives. There’s no way around it. But God does promise a safe landing. He promises something else – to be there with us every step of the way. He is here and I am here to tell you all that He won’t let you go through it alone. He just won’t!

So, on that note, no matter what goes-down tomorrow in the operating room, I will

My band Strings of Faith played last Sunday. Fun, fun fun!

carry-on as a New Creation and a witness for the Lord, that He is good, all the time. He is with us all the time. And He will be with me from the surgeon’s first cut, until my new overnight nurse is clotting the catheter incision Tuesday night. I pray she isn’t an offensive tackle. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!

I know I’ll be thinking of my blessed new life and how much it has meant for me to be a part of God’s plan. He is the vine; we are the branches. And I am so grateful.

I’m also grateful for being able to see anew. My feet are not the only things I have seen for the first time lately. Like fumbling around in the dark looking for the car keys, it’s so much easier when you turn on a light. Only in this case, God’s light shines on the world and allows for a whole new point of view.

See you in a few days!

Love, Bob.

There’s another world inside of me
That you may never see
There are secrets in this life
That I can’t hide
Somewhere in this darkness
There’s a light that I can’t find
Maybe it’s too far away
Or maybe I’m just blind

When your education X-Ray
Cannot see under my skin
I won’t tell you a damn thing
That I could not tell my friends
Roaming through this darkness
I’m alive but I’m alone
Part of me is fighting this
But part of me is gone

So hold me when I’m here
Right me when I’m wrong
Hold me when I’m scared
And love me when I’m gone
Everything I am
And everything in me
Wants to be the one
You wanted me to be
I’ll never let you down
Even if I could
I’d give up everything
If only for your good
So hold me when I’m here
Right me when I’m wrong
You can hold me when I’m scared…
So love me when I’m gone

– 3 Doors Down

Sacred Heart

Today the grass was a little more green; the sky seemed a little more blue; the air felt a little more life-giving. I stepped out of my door to greet the day and felt so alive that I couldn’t help a smile on my face. I looked up to Heaven and said “thank you” to the God who made this and every day for me the last fifty-one years.

I had been released from the cardiac center a survivor only twenty hours before.

I survived a major heart attack.

I collapsed at work, took a ride in an ambulance that I thought would be my last, tasted the artificial sweet of nitro under my tongue three times on the way to the ER, wondered how near death was, knew that it wasn’t far, saw the EKG scratching my erratic heart rhythms on the scroll of paper in front of me, heard the hospital calling to “give him another dose” of nitro, could see the hospital just one block away through the window of the ambulance, wondered if I’d make it there alive, saw the driver open the door, rode a bumpy gurney ride out of the daylight and into the blinding florescent lamplight inside, had my clothes and shoes and jewelry ripped from my body, lay naked and helpless while four people pulled me off of the stretcher and onto a table, felt pokes and pricks and prods as the trauma team prepped me for heart surgery, felt sticky cold heart monitor leads attached to my skin.

I was whisked away towards the operating room, saw my Mom and Dad in the hall, thought I’d never see them again, watched the robotic x-ray camera hovering above my rib cage project images of the inside of my heart onto three giant flat screen TV monitors, thought that was pretty cool, heard the Cardiologist crack a joke to his assistants during what seemed to be a delicate moment with my life in his hands, wondered if he was really taking this seriously, cracked a joke back that surprised the team working on me (they thought I was asleep), felt the surgeon’s instrument follow a narrow path through a catheter in my leg all the way to my chest cavity and into my heart (“No. Just processing what you said.” I replied.), marveled that I was awake and watching/feeling the skilled hands and technology at work inside my body (they all laughed), prayed that I would be okay, hoped to see another day, heard the words “it went very well” through my worry, thought about Jesus and what I’d say when I got to meet Him, spent the next thirty hours recovering in the ICU, and then moved to a private room where my every breath was monitored as if it were my last.

Fortunately, none were my last and I was presented back into the world as one who had just dueled with death – and won – this time.

So this new day, today, may seem more beautiful than all the other 18,615 days that went before, but that is how I see it. And that’s how it is for me now.

When my boss came to visit me in the ICU, all the nurses were telling her what a “cool guy” I am. Not that I’d disagree with that sentiment ; ) But they were amazed at my positive get up and go attitude so soon after a major heart attack.

Heck, to be honest with you, I was pretty happy to still be above ground. It didn’t look too good on the ambulance ride over, that’s for sure.

They told me later that typically folks get really depressed after a major life-threatening event like a heart attack. I can understand that.

It’s just the opposite for me during times of great despair. At least it’s different for me now than it was before I was born again. But I had to learn how to trust God. It wasn’t always like that for me and I do understand the other point of view in an intimate way.

When I lost my job four years ago I came unglued at first. But God was right there beside me saying, “This won’t be easy, but I’m with you all the way.” He never abandoned me and He gave me the strength to accomplish what I never could have accomplished by myself.

I have had a few “wake-up calls” since then. This new challenge is just another mile marker on the road to God’s Glory. I actually felt much better emotionally in the days after my heart attack, than I did the day before. It’s a miracle, I know.

Miracles are to be expected!

I have God and all of His angels (the people who wrote, called, visited, cooked, and prayed for me) to thank for my positive attitude. Because they were with me, I was able to see God working in my life. His presence was all around me. And through Him, all things are possible – yes, even miracles.

I have gone through many changes since I became a New Creation. I have been challenged. All of this has been good for me. It has taken me away from the darkness of sinful behavior and put me onto God’s lighted path. The tragedies and hardships and afflictions have without exception been part of the journey to a better place. I have grown for all of it. Each experience with adversity, whether it was a job loss, death of a loved one, an unhealthy relationship, illness, or bad behavior, has helped me to understand that we do not please God when we ignore (or try to justify) our sins. He is pleased when we acknowledge them, when we turn away from them, when we repent. I have been so blessed and it is because I have done the 180.

God says that our bodies are a temple. I have let my temple run-down, become sick, unhealthy, out of shape, and therefore not God pleasing. There’s much to be learned from this experience for me. Like I have chosen to be a better steward with money (and God has certainly rewarded me in many ways for that life change), so too must I become a better keeper of the one life and one body that God has given me.

I don’t know how I’ll do it yet? Yes I do! I will pray.

Prayer has helped me before. It helped me build a new career out of the ashes of my former life. It comforted me in hard times and in lonely times and in times of great fear and anxiety. It helped me overcome the adversary’s hold. Prayer has been the calm in the storm; it has led me to finally do the right thing, when all my life I have been so bad at that. And it will help me rebuild my temple – stronger, healthier, and even more committed to God’s purpose for me.

I have always been a tough customer – one who will not go down without a fight. The heart attack may have knocked me down, but it won’t keep me down. I am determined to get back up. Heck, I was doing laps around the nurses’ station twenty-four hours after my surgery.

I’m confident that all of my brothers and sisters in Christ will stand with me shoulder-to-shoulder to greet every new day with the joy that Jesus Christ has put in all of our hearts.

He’ll put it in your heart too – if you let Him.

To God be the Glory!

“The old ones speak of winter
The young ones praise the sun
And time just slips away

Running into nowhere
Turning like a wheel
And a year becomes a day

Whenever we dream
That’s when we fly
So here is a dream
For just you and I

We’ll find the Sacred Heart
Somewhere bleeding in the night
Look for the light
And find the Sacred Heart…

Oh, sometimes you never fall
And ah – You’re the lucky one
But oh – Sometimes you want it all
You’ve got to reach for the sun

And find the Sacred Heart
Somewhere bleeding in the night
Oh look to the light…

You fight to kill the dragon
And bargain with the beast
And sail into a sight

You’ll run along the rainbow
And never leave the ground
And still you don’t know why

Whenever you dream
You’re holding the key
I opens the door
To let you be free

And find the Sacred Heart
Somewhere bleeding in the night
Run for the light
And you’ll find the Sacred Heart”

Ronnie James Dio

______________________________

The Sacred Heart (also known as Most Sacred Heart of Jesus) is one of the most famous religious devotions to Jesus’ physical heart as the representation of his divine love for humanity.

Happy New Year!

“Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron’s cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.”

C.S. Lewis

Sorry Seems To Be the Hardest Word

A few days ago I was having a discussion with Mom about my job. I am a special education middle school teacher with seventeen wonderful sixth, seventh, and eighth grade students who combine a wide range of physical, emotional, and learning disabilities into a LINC (Learning In Natural Communities) class I affectionately refer to as, “my kids.”

I am blessed, you see. I have never fathered a child of my own, although I have had a major role in raising a few. That void of not having any biological offspring could have come with many regrets. But the way I look at it, between the constant flow of children in the public school system and the kids I work with at church, I have many wonderful children all around me all the time. They are children I can enjoy being around, but at the same time, send them home to their parents when they get tired, sick, or cranky.

Talk about being blessed!

Sometimes people ask me how I relate to kids so well; they cannot help but notice that I have a natural ability and a gift that is pretty unusual – I must admit – for a guy without any kids of his own.

I was just about to make this point when Mom unleashed her wisdom on me and let loose this observation, “Well, you’ve always felt sorry for those kids.”

Huh? Those... kids? I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t. Because if there’s one emotion I have never felt around any of the special needs kids, it is sorry. Yuk! This has never crossed my mind.

I’m not sure where Mom was coming from, but I am amazed at the certainty of her observation. After all, she never even asked if I indeed felt (Gulp!) sorry for the kids. She just assumed.

I am blessed for knowing each and every child that I have had the opportunity to learn, play, fish, grow, explore, sing, dance, read, laugh, and pray with. Never more so than when I am surrounded by my special needs kids. They are a joy; they are gifts from God each and every one of them. When I look at their faces, I see Jesus looking back at me. I love them. And if anyone tries to say otherwise, they’ll have to answer to me.

I do feel sorry sometimes. Sometimes I see a student outside my realm behaving a certain way and recognize that he or she should have extra help, but the parents are too poor or too proud to get it.

Other times I feel sorry when I see a perfectly normal child, in a perfectly normal classroom setting, purposely throwing away an opportunity to learn by behaving badly, or by just plain not putting any effort into their day. I see them sleep. I see them fight. I see them bully. I see them deface school property. I see them steal. I hear them curse. I feel their disrespect. And I have even been part of the bloody aftermath of one student who murdered another over a girlfriend.

There’s plenty to be sorry for in our schools. But my kids are not among the pitiful. They are gifts from God. They may never reach half of the potential of some of those other so-called “normal” kids, but they give 100% every day without exception. This is what fills me up. I leave work smiling, not because I felt sorry for someone, but because I helped a child reach a new goal. I helped them climb a new mountain they never thought they’d ever be able to climb.

Far cry from the implied act of charity that comes to mind when the word “sorry” is used to describe my intentions. I can’t help wonder how it is that I got here to this point of being with – longing to be with – children with special needs. After all, if you’d have told me five years ago that I’d be working with deaf kids, autistic kids, MR kids, and kids in wheel chairs, I’d have told you to lay-off the caffeine.

I love it here, because God put me on this path. That’s right! You heard me. God’s will is my work. But all it took for me to reach this crossroad was to stop trying to control it all myself. Like I know the first thing about what God’s plan is for me.

I let go of it three  years ago and this is where He has led me. I may not be making the big paychecks that life in television put into my bank account, but what have I got to show for all of that now?

So, if you talk to Mom and she says she’s proud of what I am doing now, believe it. She is. But if she goes on to say that I’m doing it because I feel sorry for those kids, you now know that I could never feel sorry for those with whom I have come to love so deeply in my spiritual journey towards God’s Glory.

Sorry seems to be the hardest word.

http://www.disabled-world.com/artman/publish/article_0060.shtml