Christmas Miracles

ONCE UPON A TIME...a wife spent most of an eight month period beside her terminally ill husband at their "vacation home" on Mercy Hospital's 4th floor oncology wing. 

Excursions were rare but when able, the two would walk the hospital halls and grounds hand in hand.

The hospital had a nice little gift shop on the first floor that the couple would pass by in route to fresh air and sunshine.  Sometimes, the husband would become too weak on the journey and they would have to pause for rest beside the gift shop window.

A large display of Brighton jewelry was just beyond the glass.  The wife was drawn to a pretty necklace. Something about it made her smile. 

One day the husband felt stronger than normal and asked his bride if she would escort him and his iv pole into the shop to point out the exact necklace she liked so much.

The husband was a great provider for his family and a generous man.  The wife expected to receive the necklace as a gift from him maybe on her birthday or for Christmas.  But as is the case with terminal illness and chemotherapy, the husband's thought processes became cloudy.  The necklace was never mentioned to anyone other than the husband and the gift was never received.

In August of 2013, they wheeled the husband out of Mercy Hospital as he completed his final life extending dose of chemotherapy and returned home to die. 

He passed away in January of 2014.

In December of 2016, the wife sat in her living room flanked on either side by their two precious children, now sixteen and seventeen years old. They presented their mother with her Christmas gifts.  As she opened the first gift, a luxurious throw, a Brighton bag slipped from its folds.

As the mom reached into the bag, the very necklace that had brought smiles to her face during some of the darkest days of her life fell into her hand.  Tears fell from her face as she whispered the story to their children.

💞🎄💞🎄💞🎄💞🎄💞🎄💞🎄

Reflections of God's Faithfulness

I wrote these words over a year ago.  This was the Streller Family Support Page post on Facebook from August 26, 2013.  As I re-read it today...I can unashamedly say it still rings true.  Oh how faithful our God really is!!! 

Today, I sat across from the social worker who is helping guide us through hospice care, etc. and she asked me “THE QUESTION”…..

I am often asked how am I doing “this”. 

How am I so strong? 

How am I facing this situation with such bravery?

I answered from my heart, “It is simply God.” 

I am going to be honest with you; I don’t really “get” the question….. 

This season of my life has been tough. There have been and will be tears. There has been and will be confusion and frustration. There is a tremendous amount of weakness in me. 

But there has never been, nor will there ever be, any doubt that my God is faithful. MY GOD IS FAITHFUL! Like the Kerrie Roberts song “No Matter What” declares, He can find a way to keep me from the pain but if not, I’ll trust Him. I guess that sums up my answer.

I TRUST my Savior. 

I know any strength that others think they are seeing in me is actually our God manifesting Himself and showing His mighty, sustaining power. For that, I am grateful. For His power is made perfect through my weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9). What you are seeing is His Word coming to life before our very eyes. It is His goodness shining from within me. 

By now, you know how much I love music, so let me borrow more lyrics. This time from Josh Wilson’s “Fall Apart”….
“Cause my whole world is caving in
But I feel You now more than I did then
How can I come to the end of me
And somehow still have all I need
God, I want to know You more
Maybe this is how it starts
I find You when I fall apart.” 

I have a relationship with the King of Kings and the Lamb of God. It is real. My love affair with my Savior began over 28 years ago. He is constant. He is the “giver of endurance and encouragement” (Romans 15:5). He promises the weary and burdened Lori that He will give me rest (Matthew 11:28). 

I was also able to expand on my answer to the social worker by adding that I have had the privilege of having a great marriage for 18+ years. This man lying in that hospital bed is AMAZING. His spiritual gift is service and he has served me and our family so beautifully. He has been more of a father to our children in these 12-14 years than many of my grown adult friends have ever experienced in their own parental relationships of 40 or more years. Of course, this situation stinks. I would never have chosen this as our story, we are far from perfect, but it has been a great marriage and we have a true love and a deep connection that will carry me through the rest of my days. I will miss this man with every single fiber of my being while I remain on this earth. 

But I choose to not dwell on that right now, because Tim isn’t gone yet! He is here and we are still living life together and loving each other selflessly. We are still studying God’s Word together and learning and growing in our relationships with Christ and with each other.

So, how am I doing “this”? 

I am not. MY FAITHFUL GOD IS! 

“I consider that our present sufferings are not worthy comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” – Romans 8:18

~Lori

The Overlooked Role of Caregiver (part two): How God’s People Served

With God by my side, I knew I was an overcomer; and He knew I would need encouragement to continue on this road.

I would literally administer a feeding through Tim’s tube while he rested, climb the stairs to play video games with our kids, slip back downstairs to check his blood pressure or get him more pain medication or honestly sometimes only to make sure he was still breathing, then return to the laughter of the upstairs den.  I don’t understand how anyone can endure this hurricane without God’s grace and the hope we find in Him.  God alone was my sole source of strength.  

He was my EVERYTHING! 

Because this was my husband’s personal health battle, we agreed to let him make the rules of how we would manage this season of our lives.  He chose to handle it without allowing many people around.  I sometimes felt isolated and suffocated by the stress and loneliness of my role. 

God sent special friendships to minister to me during this time.  Friends who respected Tim’s wishes, and left us to our privacy, but still managed to be creative in ways to bless and encourage me; they were my God-given lifeline to the outside world. 

We spent months in the hospital, me sleeping in the chair that made into a mini-cot (when I was lucky).  Most mornings I would find a text message to “please step out into the hallway” where my favorite specialty coffee and oatmeal would be waiting with a quick hug from a precious friend.  In the quiet stillness of the hospital room as Tim would spend periods unresponsive to outside stimuli, I would find emails or private Facebook messages with prayers specifically for me.   

On weeks where we were able to be at home, my mailbox would hold all sorts of treasures from anonymous friends…encouraging cards filled with Scripture or gift cards to ease the financial burden we were experiencing.  We even returned one day to find a beautiful fall wreath hung on our door.  On two occasions, our flower beds had gorgeous flowers planted by loving hands.  Our church friends filled our freezer with groceries.  

Our children’s school…

where do I even begin with the love they poured out to us?  

They came up with the best idea I have ever seen to provide meals for us.  Tim’s cancer took away his ability to swallow and eventually his sense of smell.  Until he lost his sense of smell, I was very hesitant to cook meals.  It seemed torturous to put him through that, and Tim had been clear that he did not want company in our home, so having meals delivered wasn't an option.  The school left an insulated food bag in the office and families took turns anonymously filling it. This eliminated my need to spend hours in the kitchen away from Tim, it minimized the aroma from cooking, it skirted the issue of having people visit, and it did not require me to send thank you cards.

I have found that no one knows the extent of the caregiver’s role unless they have walked the road for themselves, and even then, circumstances and degrees vary greatly.  If you have someone in your life that is a primary caregiver to a loved one, seek out ways to minister to them.  You may be the only one who shows the hands and feet of Christ to them on their journey.  Be creative and bring them little encouragements of love.  You may not be able to truly empathize with them, but maybe from this glimpse inside my journey, you can better sympathize with them.  

"Bear one another’s burdens, 

and thus fulfill the law of Christ.”

Galatians 6:2

I was beyond blessed in my role as caregiver.  Beyond BLESSED by a grateful and brave husband!  BEYOND blessed by Christians who helped bear my burden!  I fear this isn't the case for many others on this road.  

I have committed to keep my eyes and ears open for ways I can intentionally show Christ’s love to others who walk this path.  Will you join me?  If so, I’d love to hear how.  Let's be creative together as we bear one another's burdens!

The Overlooked Role of Caregiver (part one): How God was Enough

I've learned that most people don’t really comprehend the stress associated with balancing life between the living and the dying.  It’s kind of this overlooked or ignored portion of the primary caregiver’s process. 

Only by the grace of God, did I stay afloat during those 17 months.  

only.  by.  HIS.  grace.

It’s not natural. 

It’s not feasible to exist in this wait pattern; having young, energetic, lively children who need to live and participate in life and not sit in a house or hospital room waiting on death to occur.  Loving them; leading them; helping them to develop into who God has designed them to be.  Allowing them to fully experience their childhood and mature through it into healthy teenagers.  All the while knowing their childhood will never again be as carefree as the majority of their peers.

Yet at the same time….

Caring for their father who is the ultimate, brave, fighter; who wants to be a part of every little thing they are doing.  Not desiring to miss a second of their childhood; yet trapped inside a body that won’t allow it.  This strong and yet even stronger-willed man who wouldn't accept his own physical limits and often refused to use his walker, only to become too weak part-way to his destination and pass out cold on the floor.  I will never be able to erase the sound of his body slapping the bathroom tile, time and time again as his strength failed him.  That sound.  It rings out in the hollowness of my mind when those particular memories flood their way back.   

I existed in this crazy ocean of exhaustive waves between the love of my life and our loves, trying to protect them all.  My reality was that I couldn't always be with Tim every second of every day when we were not in the hospital.  I had carpool to run and kids to shuttle to events, and groceries to buy; all the basic necessities for living.  My other reality was that I could never allow the kids to be alone with their father.  I was unable to run for a gallon of milk without taking both kids with me, for fear of them being alone with dad when he passed away.  There were so many gruesome scenarios that could have played out for Tim’s death because of the nasty head and neck cancer that had invaded his body.  I couldn't have a child be alone with him.  I just couldn't.

For 17 months, every single time I walked into the door of our home, (if we weren't in the hospital or Tim wasn't with me), I knew there was a very real possibility that Tim would be gone.  Without saying a word, I would try to position myself as the first one in the door or be right beside a child as they entered.  I am still recovering from the mental exhaustion of constantly being in “Protect Mode”.       

Hardest of all was bouncing between the two extremes.  Giving my all to be “in the moment” and truly living with our children; then instantly transitioning into giving my all to be “in the moment” and tending to the every need of my husband who was truly dying.  The waves of both realities crashing against my mind and body at all times; crushing me under their weight was just too much. 

Too much to handle alone; I am forever grateful for my hope in God which was the anchor to my soul.

Hebrews 6:19 “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” 

Baldness Reality {a hospital journal entry from the wee hours of March 19, 2013}

 

Last night I was scrolling through my hospital journal and I found this entry.  Fresh tears fell once more.   

 

How can lack of hair make such a difference?  I kiss his bald head goodnight, crawl onto my cot and lay still, listening until I know he is asleep.  Then the tears slide down my cheeks and drip onto my pillowcase. 

There is something about the baldness that rips at my heart when he is in his hospital bed. 

He looks smaller.

He looks older.

He looks more frail.

He looks scared.

His bright blue eyes seem to pierce my soul as if to say, "capture this memory, for the end is near".  I lie awake in the wee hours of the morning after a mere nap during the long night.  Listening to the whimpering in his sleep and his uneven breathing.  Wanting to be here to reassure him when he briefly wakes up confused and restless. 

Reality is a cold slap across my face.  The past 13 days have been our closest to normal we have had in a long time....and I almost forgot.

Forgot that he has only been given months to live. 

Forgot that this chemo is not a cure but a prolonging of life.

Forgot that he will not grow old beside me.

Forgot that I will be responsible to lead our children into adulthood without him.

My heart aches so deeply that I literally feel physical pain and struggle to catch my breath through the silent sobs.

I read that journal entry and a flood of memories burst forth.  So many sleepless  days and nights I have spent watching him sleep in a hospital bed.  Oh so very many.  This journal entry was from March of 2013.  It is October now, and my man is still here beside me.  With the chemotherapy treatments stopped, he is ever so slowly growing back in the hair on his head and face.  We celebrate the baby eyelashes and new peach fuzz atop his head.  But more than anything, we celebrate the gift of time. 

I wouldn't trade the past 7 months of "extra time" with my Tim for all the sleep in the world.  What a blessing it has been to be by his side during the treacherous journey through chemotherapy, living my wedding vows out loud to the love of my life. 

It hurts. 

It is the hardest of hards. 

But I am grateful to my God for it......this gift of time.  Even as it slips away.

"So teach us to number our days, that we may present to You a heart of wisdom." ~Psalm 90:12