Day 1: Recovery - suffering and being seen

We listened to Taylor Swift first thing this morning, which seems appropriate having slept very little between the hours of midnight and 3am. We quickly forgot how the first night post-Chiari is a painful step in the recovery process. When Dr. Brockmeyer came by early last night, he urgently requested the nurses to stay on top of the pain and to keep Madeline comfortable. She is feisty, which is a quality that will serve her well, but it also creates havoc when coupled with pain. Last night was restless.

She is sleeping well this morning, and it appears her pain is under control.

 

Watching children suffer is misery. The journey of parenting is an incredible act of discipleship, similar to marriage and singleness. Each life era has its own suffering. How we navigate it is a special kind of formation. We don't figure this out by reading books or sitting in a classroom but through living and wondering and praying. I'm not sure what it is like for you, but I keep whispering "Lord, have mercy" as I walk the halls and sit beside Madeline. 

 

I recently read a beautiful book (I see the irony from the paragraph above), The Art of Power by Thich Nhat Hahn. He invites the reader to notice suffering in oneself and in others. He invites us to sit with it. Reading Hahn reminds me of reading Job in seminary. There is no fixing; only offering presence. He has this brilliant chapter, "To Be Present at Home and Work." In it he unfolds how love is rooted in presence to a loved one's suffering. It seems appropriate for St. Valentine's Day. Living in love is learning the practice of presence. Hahn asks us to learn to say and to practice the following:

 

1. I am really here for you. 

2. I see you there, and I am very happy. 

3. I can see you are suffering; this is why I am here.

 

We've experienced this these past weeks from friends and family and are hopeful Madeline experiences this from us. 

 

There is so much suffering each and every day. Last night a shooting occurred at Michigan State, and we have many friends who sent their children to attend MSU. I could only imagine the fear and worry watching national news about a child's dormitory. We sent our friends' texts to communicate, "I see you; I am here." We also received news from other friends regarding the suffering of their own child. We exchanged texts encouraging one another even as we shared the stories of our children suffering. We ended the thread, "It’s amazing how Love has capacity to hold one another amidst it all. #Grateful" 

 

How do we keep our heads up? How do we practice Philippians 4? Adulthood is living between peace and suffering. Being seen and known by one another is how we walk the way together.

 

I was in the middle of writing the above when Maddie walked through the door to deliver a gift. Maddie was Madeline's pre-op nurse that we briefly met on Friday for our initial pre-op workup. She requested to check Madeline into the hospital on Monday, so we saw her again. She has a brightness about her, and she loves Madeline. Maddie had a refrain whenever someone enters the room to serve with joy; she would say, "You are good people. I like you." She, of course, said this about Madeline. She said it of many others, too. We spent maybe an hour or two with Maddie, so for her to visit us this morning and to deliver a gift is precious - she is saying, "I see you there, and I am very happy. I see you are suffering; this is why I am here."

 

Madeline was asleep when Maddie came, but her brief presence is giving us hope and joy for the morning. 

 

Madeline has a few tasks today. The most important are to rest, to eat, to drink and to use the restroom. Additionally, she will be fitted for a personalized brace. 

 

I say this whenever I write about pilgrimage; everyone is a pilgrim traveling somewhere. Stop to say hello and to recognize them on the Way. Maddie did this for us today in stopping by; many others from afar do this for us via text, phone, and social media. It is all a gift. I hate suffering, but ignoring it leaves us lonely; embracing it shows us a way. Thank you for seeing us; for being here. I truly believe it is part of the recovery protocol.