A Year Later

It was one year ago today that I found myself in the Intensive Care Unit at the hospital after I passed out on my patio at home and was carried there by ambulance. It was a scary time for our whole family. Several prominent impressions have stuck with me about that incident over the past year.  

The most memorable was waking up to my normally mild-mannered wife, Melanie, leaning over me with an expression of horror coming out as anger saying, “Don’t you leave me! Do you understand? Don’t you leave me!”  “I’ll try not to,” I weakly answered. “NO!” she said. “You will not try. You will do it! If you see Jesus Himself, you turn around and come back to me! He has all eternity to spend with you!”  Lying on the ground with a blood pressure so low they couldn’t even determine it, I laughed out loud. I love that woman.

I’ve since told people that I can imagine what that scene could have looked like:  “Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Enter into…”  “Lord, excuse me for interrupting, but could we press the pause button here a sec? My wife is really upset with me right now. I have to get back home. I’m gonna have to get back to you. Let’s pick up on this again later, alrighty? Otherwise, I’m gonna catch hell in heaven when she gets here.”

Okay, maybe I exaggerate about what might have been, but there is an impression that is no exaggeration. It is the distinct and indelible impression of my own mortality. Over the past year, I’ve had numerous doctors tell me that I might have four different terminal diseases. I’ve felt physically awful much of the year and passed out a lot. At times through the year I’ve felt frustrated, anxious, depressed, angry and confused. The whole thing has made no sense. I know all the right answers about faith and healing and divine sovereignty and . . . I’ve taught it all and, more importantly, I believe it all. But that hasn’t kept me from experiencing normal human reactions to my circumstances. You may or may not agree, but I fully believe my Father is okay with that. If Jesus wept in the Garden of Gethsemene, I'm sure He's fine with feeble me having a few bad days. Thankfully, "He certainly knows what we are made of. He bears in mind that we are dust" (Ps. 103:14, God's Word Translation).

Mortality. It’s a word I only associated with life insurance salesman who referenced it when they read actuarial tables to determine premiums when I was a young man. Now it’s a palpable word with substantive meaning that became up close and personal this past year. I have no fear of dying. At one point when I was lying on the ground at home, Melanie asked me, “Are you afraid?”  “Of what? Heaven?!?” I answered. No, of course I wasn’t afraid of death. Not then or now.

On that note, the good news for me at Vanderbilt Hospital last month is that I don’t have anything terminal. My problem is “a classic condition” that medical science has no real answers for. “Drink more water. Eat much, much more salt. It’ll increase your blood volume and might help. We don’t know.” That’s the answer I got from a highly esteemed doctor who spends every day in a research study about my very problem. I don’t expect doctors to know everything, but I was disappointed they had no definitive answer. Oh, well. As I’ve often said, “It is what it is.”

Thankfully, over the past month I’ve felt much better. Very much better. I had a slight hiccup here on vacation last week, but nothing big. No passing out or anything like that. Just warning signs that I’ve learned means it’s time to sit down. But, overall, I’m encouraged and optimistic about my progress.Unless something changes, I won't be talking about my health anymore. Only only geezers go on and on about that subject!

One big thing I’ve taken away from all this is the importance of keeping my priorities in the right order. I want to spend time with my wife, my children, my grandchildren and my friends. I want to play more. Even knowing grace I'm still a Type A personality and have a tendency to lapse back into my old works-a-holic flesh patterns if I'm not careful. Nobody cares how hard you worked once you’re dead but they will remember how much you loved them as evidenced by the time and experiences you shared together. That’s what I want to do most with the rest of my life.

Another thing I want to do is focus more attention on writing. My publisher and I have agreed on my writing agenda for the next couple of years. When Wives Walk in Grace will be released in July. Three are scheduled for release next year. In addition I plan to do some shorter e-books along the way. In fact, I’ll finish one while I’m here on this trip and hope to have it on amazon.com within the next month. I’ll say more about it once I’ve decided a title and finished it.

I’m optimistic about the future of Grace Walk. The Father has brought Robyn Cathey on board in a part time position to carry forward the essential elements of ministry operation. I’m excited about her becoming a part of Grace Walk. She has a strong passion for seeing the message of grace spread and is a kindred spirit when it comes to helping further the kingdom.

I’ve been overwhelmed by the fact that our loving Father has also brought on three men to handle shipping Grace Walk resources. Nathan and Jason Smith and their Dad, Roger, are handling this vital responsibility on a volunteer basis. They are all successful professionals in both business and ministry and are now an official part of the Grace Walk team. Amazing, huh? When God gives you a gift, it’s always Grade-A and never fails to exceed your expectations.

So things are looking good in these directions. For that, I am so thankful. I still have to learn over and over again that, as my friend, Ralph Harris, says, “God’s got ya.” I know it but I’m still coming to know it again and again in every area of life.

I want to thank so many of you who have shown love and concern during this past year of challenge. Your prayers, emails, Facebook notes and posts, and phone calls have been more encouraging than you can imagine. I get so many emails and FB notes that I haven’t been able to respond to each one individually but I have read each and every one and have been lifted by your kindness. Thank you.

So here I am a year later. On this day last year I was in Intensive Care. Today I’m in the Bahamas on a much-needed vacation with a great wife and great friends. So I’m thankful. Truly thankful. Proverbs 4:18 says, “The path of the righteous is like the morning sun, shining ever brighter till the full light of day.” I believe that. In fact, I’m counting on it.