A Test of Faith (39 page)
Authors: Karen Ball
Faith nodded. “I know, Daddy. She’s been through so much.” She patted him on the shoulder. “It’ll be over soon.”
As though to prove her right, the door to her mother’s room opened, and the nurse looked out. “She’s asking for you, Mr. Bennett.”
They started into the room, and the nurse halted them for a moment. “We’ll be taking her to surgery as soon as she sees you.”
Dad nodded, and they hurried into the room. He went to Mom’s side, taking her trembling hand. Faith could tell her mom had been crying, and that was almost more than she could take.
“Hi there.” Her dad’s soft voice was so full of love. “You okay, hon?”
Mom looked up at him, eyes wide with love and trust, and managed a smile. Her breathless whisper was for Dad alone. “I am now that you’re here.”
Zeke tugged Faith’s arm, and they walked from the room. He drew her into his strong embrace, and when he spoke, emotion roughened his voice. “If anyone ever wonders what real love is, all they have to do is look at those two.”
Amen
, Faith thought.
Amen
.
Unlike her mother’s heart procedure, the lung surgery seemed to go by in a flash. The surgeon came to tell them that, during surgery, they’d drained another litre and a half of fluid from
around each lung, but the procedure—inserting a fine talc that would seal areas where the fluids were gathering—was a success.
So why doesn’t he look more encouraged?
Faith couldn’t make herself ask the question out loud.
The surgeon pulled off the cap covering his head. “She’s still on a ventilator and may be through the night. She’ll be in ICU for a few days, then will be moved into a regular hospital room. You should be able to see her in about a half hour.”
“Thank you, Dr. Campbell.” Faith’s father held out his hand, and the doctor took it. “For everything.”
The doctor’s eyes seemed shadowed. “I wish I could do more.”
“So do I,” Dad said with a weary smile. “But God’s with Anne, and He will work this out as is best.”
Faith wanted to echo her father’s words, wanted to feel confidence about them. But for once she couldn’t.
What if God’s idea of
best
wasn’t the same as Faith’s?
When Faith and her father went to the ICU the next day, the nurse didn’t buzz them in as she had the day before. Instead, the doors opened and Winnie and the surgeon came out to meet them.
The look on Winnie’s face told Faith all she needed to know.
The news wasn’t good.
Winnie hugged Faith’s father, then led them to the ICU waiting area. They sat, and Winnie took Faith’s hand as Dr. Campbell explained the situation. “Mrs. Bennett had a bad night. Her blood pressure dropped. Her kidneys have shut down.” He looked at Dad, his gaze level. “Your wife is in a fight for her life.”
Faith couldn’t take it in. She sat there, her hand gripping Winnie’s hand. The doctor had to be mistaken. Had to be talking about someone else.
“What are her chances for recovery?”
Dad’s quiet question startled Faith. She shot a look from him to the doctor.
Don’t say it! Don’t—
“Fifty-fifty at best. We’ve got her on all the meds we can to help, but for now it’s going to be a waiting game.” He looked down, then back up at Dad. “I’m so sorry. Her body’s been through so much …”
Faith’s father nodded. “She’s tired. It’s time for her to rest.”
“Dad!”
He lifted tearful eyes to Faith. “I haven’t given up, punkin’. But the outcome is in God’s hands. Not ours. And we have to be ready for whatever comes.”
Faith closed her eyes. No. She would not be ready. Not for this.
Not ever.
Zeke sat in his bedroom chair, his Bible sitting closed in his lap, a steaming mug of coffee cupped in his hands. Faith was in the office room, writing e-mails to update friends on Anne’s situation. So he’d taken the opportunity of these few moments to sit and pray.
To ask God for guidance.
It was so hard to see Faith and Jared going through what they were. Faith still wanted to believe her mom would rally, recover. But Zeke had a feeling that, no matter how they might want that, it wasn’t going to happen.
He opened the Bible to 1 Thessalonians, which he’d been reading that week, and found his place in chapter four. Taking a sip of coffee, he started reading. His breath caught as he took in the words on the page in front of him.
“And now, brothers and sisters, I want you to know what will happen to the Christians who have died so you will not be full of sorrow like people who have no hope.”
Zeke closed his eyes, sorrow washing over him. He’d been so afraid of this. But then, maybe this didn’t mean anything. Maybe it was just a coincidence that this was his reading for today. He read on.
“For since we believe that Jesus died and was raised to life again, we also believe that when Jesus comes, God will bring back with Jesus all the Christians who have died. I can tell you this directly from the Lord: We who are still living when the Lord returns will not rise to meet him ahead of those who are in their graves. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven with a commanding shout, with the call of the archangel, and with the trumpet call of God. First, all the Christians who have died will rise from their graves. Then, together with them, we who are still alive and remain on the earth will be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air and remain with him forever.”
Goose bumps skipped over Zeke’s arms; shivers traveled across his neck and down his spine. It was as though he could see it happening. Hear the shout! The trumpet blast! And there, among those rising into the air, was Anne, her face glowing with the purest joy he’d ever seen as she went into the arms of her Savior and Lord.
Blinking back tears, Zeke read the last line: “So comfort and encourage each other with these words.”
He bowed his head. The room was oddly still. Like it was packed in some kind of supernatural cotton. Certainty pressed down on Zeke like a sodden wool blanket—heavy, weighted, inescapable.
This was no coincidence.
Knowing that, he opened his heart, asking God to touch him, to prepare him for what was coming—and to equip him so he might help those he loved so dearly as they let go of the mother and wife they adored.
Winds“And the winds beat against that house …”
M
ATTHEW
7:25
“Be kind, for everyone you meet
is fighting a hard battle.”
P
LATO
From: FaithinHim
To: TheCoffeeCrew
Sent: Saturday, April 23, 2005
Subject: Jesus is Lord
Dearest sisters, I’ve been sitting here, wondering what to title this post. I’m sad and weary, but so very aware of God’s gracious love and presence. Then I glance at my desk, and there is an open hymnal, and this hymn, “Jesus Is Lord,” is the one that met me. The lyrics seem so appropriate:
“All my tomorrows, all my past, Jesus is Lord of all
I’ve quit my struggles, contentment at last, Jesus is Lord of all.”
Today, it seems, my sweet, wonderful mom has quit her struggles. Or at least her body has. She’s in the ICU (they had her in a regular hospital room for a day), and the doctor talked with Dad, Zeke, and
me yesterday, telling us Mom was in a fight for her life. When we arrived at the ICU this morning, Dr. Campbell took us into a small room next to the waiting room. A quiet room.
A room for bad news.
I’ll never forget the sadness on his face as he turned to my dad. “Your wife has developed pneumonia on one side. Her blood pressure is dropping, her kidneys are slowing, she’s unconscious. We’ve got the oxygen wide open, but it’s not helping.” He looked at us. That final kind of look that you know isn’t going to change, no matter how much you cry and rant and rave. No matter how much you plead. “I’m sorry. She’s not going to pull through this.”
I sat there. Stunned. Broken. Angry. Desperate.
Helpless.
I wanted to crawl away somewhere and scream. Instead, we nodded. Said thank you. Then we went back to the waiting room. The doctor came in about fifteen minutes later and suggested we go home for a short time. That they had some further tests to do before we could see her and we’d be more comfortable at home.
“Can we see her before we go?”
I was glad Dad asked that. I’d wanted to but was afraid. Thankfully, Dr. Campbell let us go in. Just for a minute. Dad did get Mom to rouse slighty one time. Dad and I were holding her hands, and she squeezed our hands to say she heard him, but when we left, she was unresponsive.
The doctor walked us out of the ICU. “Come back in an hour.”
So here I am, writing you because I can’t think of what else to do. They can’t say how much time Mom has left, or if she’ll ever come to again, but we’re losing her. Probably soon.
Once again, I’m not sure what to ask you to pray, other than for
God’s will and mercy. Mom fought long and hard, but her body is so worn down…
I can’t imagine life without her, but I am so very grateful that, if we do say good-bye in this life, it won’t be forever. And I will long for eternity even more than I do now, because I know I’ll see her glorious, sweet smile and feel her arms around me again. I can’t wait for that day.
I can’t write anymore, but I want to thank you for all your prayers and care. I love you.
Faith
The hour came and went.
Faith, Zeke, and her dad came back, and Winnie met them at the double doors leading to the ICU. “I’m really sorry, but it will be another hour or so until you can come in.”
“She won’t—” Faith couldn’t make herself finish the question, but Winnie understood. Her eyes glistened as she shook her head. “No, she won’t die before you see her.”
Faith put her arm around her dad and led him to the ICU waiting room. She sat on the couch, staring but not seeing. Zeke sat beside her, silent, his arm firm and tight around her. Dad stood at the window of the waiting room, staring out at the hospital parking lot. Faith leaned into Zeke, wanting to say something to encourage and comfort her dad, but she couldn’t.
There weren’t any words.
Just a weary, sad silence.
A bustle of sound at the doorway jerked their attention that direction, but it wasn’t the doctor. It was another family coming in—an older woman and what looked to be her two adult children. They sat on the couch across from Faith and Zeke, the woman between the other two. She shredded a tissue in her trembling hands, looking from one of her children to the other.
“He was doing so well! I don’t understand …”
The man beside her shook his head. “Mom, there’s no explanation. Dad took a bad turn.”
“They were hitting him—”
“CPR, Mom.” The daughter stroked her mom’s arm. “They were doing CPR on him.”
The older woman stared at her hands. “What will I do without him?”
Faith choked back a sob.
Father God, this could be us any time … Please, please help these people
.
The too-familiar sound of the ICU doors opening and closing came and then footsteps. A doctor entered the waiting room, and Faith was ashamed at her relief when she realized it wasn’t Dr. Campbell.
The woman stood, going to him. “Is he …?”
The doctor took her outstretched hands, holding them. “I’m sorry. We worked on him for forty-five minutes, but he was gone.”
The woman dissolved into tears, and her children came to support her, to lead her back to the couch. Faith gripped Zeke’s hands, the doctor’s words hitting her almost as hard as it did the poor woman sitting there.
Just then, another man entered the waiting area. He went to the weeping family, introducing himself as the hospital chaplain. Faith and her father exchanged a look of relief. Here was help and comfort.
Thank You, God. Give Him the right words
.
He sat beside the grieving woman, talking with her. But as he talked, he offered no comfort, no promise of eternity. Rather, the man made light conversation. Chitchat. He even attempted a joke.
