Day 3: When we know very little....practice Grace

Summary: 

We do not yet know the next steps for surgery or recovery, but we seem to be okay. Calm, content, and trusting...there is so much more to write about the body (the actual bodies we have and the body of Christ) but that's another day. For now, we hold our calm, contentment, and trust as a gift from God and God's people who are interceding on our behalf. Thank you.

Update: 

 

We've been pastors and professors. We live in a world where questions are constant, where information is supposed to relieve anxiety, and where certainty is the upgrade to ambiguity. But then we became parents; questions are still constant, but information rarely relieves anxiety, and ambiguity is a constant state. The ability to hold ambiguity, if I remember the theologian's quote correctly, is the key to developing humility. (If you want to read an excellent book on humility, visit Daryl Van Tongeren's Humble: the Quiet Power of an Ancient Virtue). 

These days ambiguity is our companion, whether we want it or not. 

 

We went to bed last night unsure about the next few days. The doctor has a minor concern about the swelling at the place of the incision. This is not uncommon, but it makes next steps less clear than we expected. The surgery was a "9 out of 10" according to Dr. Brockmeyer. When Madeline asked, "what would make it a 10?" He answered, and it remains too much to share. Needless to say, the surgery was intense, and recovery will take a bit longer than originally estimated. In the end, he did an excellent job. 

We entered today hoping for next steps, but certainty isn't a friend of the hospital, and I can only imagine the kinds of ambiguity medical professionals hold whether in the OR, the recovery room, or the clinic. Dr. Brockmeyer came in early this morning and gently sat beside Madeline. He asked her questions; looked around a bit; and patted her shoulder. He is both a brilliant neurosurgeon and a kind human being. We are fortunate to be under his care. But he was unwilling to proclaim next steps. 

So, it was late in the afternoon on Day 3, and we still knew very little. Originally, the second surgery was scheduled for tomorrow morning. 

Lindsay and I left at 4pm to have dinner (our incredible nurse said we would probably beat the "early bird special" crowd). A childhood friend's daughter came to be with Madeline so we could get away and breathe something other than the hospital air. We had high anxiety that the neuro-surgery team would visit while we were away, but the offer from a friend was the gift we needed.

Our friend recommended an incredible place, Pago. We sat for dinner and enjoyed one another's company. We asked our waiter, Taylor, if they had Creme Brulé. This is Madeline's favorite sweet treat (and she has many!!!) We were hopeful to bring something back to Madeline and Kenzie, but sadly,they didn't. In our eagerness to get back to Madeline, we then asked for the check. Taylor returned not simply with the check but also with a second dessert. He said, "This is for the girl who wanted Creme Brule'. I can tell you are going through some rough stuff. Enjoy." 

We thought we were our normal upbeat selves at the table; clearly, he saw otherwise. It really is all about seeing and being seen. Taylor saw us. If you ever come to Salt Lake, be sure to visit Pago. We left and returned to the hospital. Thankfully, we didn't miss the doctor while away.

So now it is even late in the evening, and we still know very little.We don't plan to have surgery in the morning, but maybe we will. Madeline needs time to recover from stage 1 before rushing too quickly to surgery 2. Our doctor understands this. Even so, Madeline continues to gain strength, and today was a full day. She walked down the hall; took two chair rides; and is currently taking a bath. We are encouraged.

But there is also a heavenly irony: At the end of a long day, when little is known and much is uncertain, our nurse for the night is named "Grace", and that seems right.

As our New Testament professor (and pre-marital coach), Dr. Klyne Snodgrass, said often, "grace makes room." In the midst of not knowing, in the face of uncertainty, we find grace, who makes room. Grace, not certainty, is the antidote to ambiguity. Humility is its fruit.

"Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need." Hebrews 4