Last night I came across a hand-written page of information I hadn’t seen in years. It was a few brief notes taken on the back cover of a 5 x 7 spiral notebook. I recognized the data as my speed-scribbling during Nate’s doctor appointment in August of 2009, one month before we learned of his cancer.
Nate was scheduled for back surgery to relieve the pain of multiple herniated discs and needed a pre-op physical. Though his pancreatic cancer was advanced by then, we didn’t know anything about it, and except for his back pain, he felt fine going into the exam.
He’d lost 31 pounds in preceding weeks but had been trying to do so after breaking the 200 pound mark on the scale. By eating smaller portions and skipping desserts, he was approaching his goal and felt good about that. People were complimenting his weight loss.
My brief notes summarized the internist’s comments as he examined Nate:
- BP – 142 over 98
- Poor facial color
- Weight – 178 (jeans on)
- Fluid in left ear (no pain)
- Wheezing in lungs
- Lump under right arm (pit)
- Lump over left collar bone
- Blood in stool – recommends colonoscopy
- Acid reflux – possibly an ulcer – blood
The doctor recommended a colonoscopy and endoscopy, promising to FAX the name and number of the correct office to us. And as Nate was being directed to radiology for a chest x-ray, the doctor said goodbye, telling us he’d call with blood test results in a few days.
That afternoon as we drove from Chicago back to Michigan, neither of us was worried. Sure, Nate’s blood pressure was higher than his usual 110/70, but we attributed that to his severe back pain, coupled with work stress. Besides, both of us had watched the doctor carefully, not sensing any apprehension on his part as he’d examined Nate.
In a few days, though, disturbing news began filtering back to us. “Your blood numbers seemed a bit off, so we’d like to do a few more tests.” Even that, however, didn’t bother us. “It’s probably nothing,” Nate said. He had lived 64 years with flawless health and had no personal doctor. Surely nothing was wrong.
It was a classic case of poor listening; we heard only what we wanted to hear.
* * * * * * * *
Physical stats aren’t the only things people mishear. Often we’re listening for information from God, but what we want to hear gets in the way of what he’s really saying. It’s difficult to sweep away the clutter of preconceived ideas and wishes, but if start there, we’ll gradually become better listeners.
The best way to accomplish that is to ask God to clear our minds of unnecessary information when we’re trying to hear him. He’s glad we’re listening and because of that, he’ll bless us with a clear focus.
And to our benefit, he’ll do that whether we’re listening to him, to a doctor, or to anyone else.
“Dear friend, listen well to My words; tune your ears to My voice…. Concentrate!” (Proverbs 4:20-21, The Message)
For those of us who have lost one so dear, through our earthly body breaking down, this word picture resounds in my mind and heart. My prayer for myself and those who say they are followers of Jesus is that we do listen. Like little children we are always in a rush as we attempt to listen so we can go about our ‘own’ business. Oh…that we might learn through listening!
Dear Margaret,
Your account sounds so familiar. Even after visiting a liver doctor, we both were sure Paul would be healed. The real truth can be so difficult to believe. Maybe the Lord was giving us a peace to prepare us for the days ahead??? Thankfully he never had much pain. We didn’t realize what the name of his condition was all about. How thankful we know the final outcome of a believer. What a peace to know he is safely with his Lord, constantly rejoicing with no illness. How precious are memories of his life! May our Lord continue to bless and use you for His glory and for encouraging others. Lovingly, Florie
After an entire week of watching my Dad lay unconscious on his ICU bed with a breathing tube to help him breath I can still hear Mom say multiple times “There is still Hope – Right?”. I would look at the doctor and nod and say “I hear you”. This devotion is so true we are all blessed that God just continues to speak to us even when we do not want to hear. I pray that I would become a better listener – I really do not want to miss his blessings!
Dear Heavenly Father,
Please make me a good listener & obeyer also♫
Dear Margaret,
I didn’t want to post this on your blog since it is so very long, but hope it is a help to others. I only meant to say “thank you” for the recent broadcast on Revive Our Hearts…but ended up “telling my story” and pouring my heart out—which I guess I needed. Thank you for pouring out yours!!! It was an outpouring of healing for me.
I’ve also ordered three of your books-to start. 🙂 Anyway, here is “my story”:
Dear Margaret,
I just listened to your interview with Nancy Leigh DeMoss throughout this week on Revive Our Hearts. There are so many adjectives I want to use to describe the impact it had on me. Your story is so very relative to my own—and many others that I noticed through your blog. My husband, my dear sweet Tommy, went home six years ago, due to pancreatic cancer. We were given six months from the time of diagnosis.
I thought I had come so far in the grief and healing process…however, lately I’ve been struggling. I couldn’t understand, thinking “why now?” I knew my heart needed more healing, but surely I was doing better (?).
Interestingly, my physical heart was probably an indication of my spiritual needs. Four years after Tommy’s homegoing, I wound up needing a pacemaker. Probably some genetic culprit, as there is heart disease in my family history—my sister also has a pacemaker. However, I also knew…my heart had been broken…by my loss.
Turning to the Lord to learn the new way of life (widowhood) was my salvation…my “working out my salvation with fear and trembling”. I learned ways about the Lord and thinking about the Lord that I would never have known had I still had my sweet Tommy to fall back on. So I began to “stabilize”. I think.
But, listening to your story went right into the heart of it all and brought up that crushing and agonizing heartbreak—that I thought had been healed—that I now know is still so very needy. Needy for the Lord and His comfort and His hope. Needy for Him to make me whole.
My relationship with the Lord is long and deep and rich and genuine. Just like my relationship with my sweet husband—just shy of 40 years before he went home. I have no idea how, or even when, the Lord will make me whole again. I just know that a huge piece of me is missing and I ache so, sometimes unbearably so.
I think that in my attempt to “behave” as I expect the Lord would want, I’ve merely put the “big, deep hurt” away…hiding it away for no one to see. Thinking/knowing the Lord will heal me; no one else needs to be bothered with that. I’ll keep that in my “quiet place” and share that deep need only with Him.
But I’m not doing so well. Alone.
Your identification of all the experience, the thoughts, the feelings were so helpful to me. It began to bring out of hiding my own sadness and loneliness and hurt. I expect too that it is also “acceptance” that is needed. When you spoke of not wanting this widowhood…I had not heard anyone express that at least not as honestly as you did. If allowed, I probably would scream “I don’t want this”. Denial is a big hump to get over. But hearing you say this new way of life has to be “learned” was really helpful. I don’t know that I really have been willing to learn, willing to accept this new life.
In my head, yes…in my heart—a thousand times no. But now, I am “willing to be made willing” if He will still have me. And I know He will. I love Him so.
I am already thinking of three of my newly widowed friends that I want to share your book and blog with. I too was the first in my circle of friends to become a widow. Within the last year, three more have joined me. We are a comfort to one another, but we all know there is “life after death” and it is my hope and prayer to move forward—for His glory.
Thank you dear Margaret for sharing your journey and making mine a little brighter. How privileged we were to have such love to bring us this far, that we may continue. Praying you are richly blessed in all your endeavors and that His sweet peace guards and keeps you.
Mercy and grace,
Glenda
“I am my beloved’s and He is mine”
Song of Solomon 6:3
Losing a life long mate is difficult but I am looking to God for healing and strength. He never gives us more than we are able to bear. My prayer is that God will help fill the void and pain that I feel.