Under a Canopy of Blessing

by Richard Edfeldt

I woke up today and started my routine like any other morning … took the 3 dogs out for their first walk of the day and brought them back in for their morning feeding.  Then I fixed my first cup of coffee when I was reminded of the significance of the day.

Today is the 8^th anniversary of Jacob’s second heart transplant

Yes, these anniversaries of special events in Karen and my life still affect us.  Our emotions are still stirred.  We may not weep as much as we have in past years due to time’s way of equipping our coping mechanism to handle such occasions more effectively.  But the melancholy is still there, the grieving of who and what is missed still bubbles toward the surface a little more forcibly on days like today.

But today is one of anniversaries where we celebrate a day when we were able to ‘renew the lease’ on Jacob’s life, albeit at the horrifying cost of another and that person’s family.

I always approach these days as an opportunity to write something.  It is a way to share a tribute to Jacob’s life – a way of helping me to remember – and a way to allowing you to share in the memories.  I know some are hesitant to speak of Jacob because you think it brings pain to us.  I will admit that often when we speak of a time in his life with someone who shared that event, a tear does come and a catch in our voice does occur.  However we agree with Elizabeth Edwards, who also lost a child, who said:

“If you know someone who has lost a child or lost anybody who’s important to them, and you’re afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died, they didn’t forget they died. You’re not reminding them. What you’re reminding them of is that you remember that they lived, and that’s a great, great gift.”

So I will continue to post these remembrances and my feelings for as long as they come to me.  There may come a day (which almost happened last year, http://embracinggrief.blogspot.com/2014/11/some-would-say-this-is-good-thing-if-so.html) when an anniversary will slip by or a time will come when I feel that I have nothing to share.  But today is not that day.

But let me get back to what started this today - that first cup of coffee. The cup that jogged my memory is special because it was one that Jacob had made for us back in 2006 (Little did we know that a year later what we would be enduring).  We have several ‘works of art’ that Jacob made at a pottery shop we frequented back then.  The shop would have different things already made that you could choose from and then paint. They would then glaze and fire them for you.  We have a chips &dip bowl and a creeping frog among several things that Jacob enjoyed painting and giving to us. They may not garner many bids for them on Ebay but they are priceless pieces of art to us. This coffee cup is one of those and this day it brought this memory from November 15, 2007.

Karen and I have shared other times about that day.  Here are those articles:

11/15/09 - http://embracinggrief.blogspot.com/2015/02/november-15-2nd-anniversary-of-surreal.html

11/14/10 – (by Karen) http://embracinggrief.blogspot.com/2010/11/november-14-what-day.html

11/15/13 –  http://embracinggrief.blogspot.com/2013/11/another-anniversary-by-richard.html

The memory that came to mind today was the last moments before Jacob was carted away to his second heart transplant surgery. Karen mentioned it in her posting by in 2010.

We had received word that a heart had been located and was being transported to Egleston around midnight ushering in November 15.  Four hours later, the team of surgical nurses and technicians came with a gurney to cart off Jacob from his ICU stall.  Remember now, this was a children’s hospital so at that time Jacob was one of the oldest ‘residents’ of ICU.  All the other patients were infants or small children and all were asleep or could not grasp the severity and sacredness of the moment.

But as we escorted Jacob and his medical entourage down the long center aisle of the ICU, each doctor, nurse, and technician paused from what they were doing and whispered a blessing on Jacob of some sort …

“Love you, Jake”

“See you soon, Jacob”

“Godspeed, Jakey”

Or they would say nothing but salute him with a ‘thumbs up’ sign as we slowly walked under that wonderful canopy of blessing and prayer.  What a solemn, holy moment!

I’ll save other memories for another anniversary but that one is one that will always be dear to Karen and me because of the bond we had with the excellent medical staff at Egleston and that canopy of blessing they provided on that eventful day eight years ago.

The Silence of God

(by Richard)

I readily admit that I am not an intellectual giant (and I’m sure I can find plenty of people who would be quick to step forward and testify on my behalf on this).  I have tried to read C.S. Lewis on several occasions and after a paragraph or two, I would have to pause and say to myself, “wait, what did he just say?” and feel the need to break it down one word at a time.  And with that much mental overexertion, I would quickly lay aside the book.

However, after Jacob’s death, there have been times when I had an insatiable need to read in order to find some sense in the pain experienced in the loss of a loved one and to find answers to questions such as:

Why did God allow this to happen?

Where was God in all of this?

Why were my prayers unanswered? As well as the prayers of many others on his behalf?

How can this be part of God’s plan?

Does prayer really accomplish anything?

I tried to read many good books that helped me cope with these questions but doubts still remained.  Being a minister actually made things worse because I had spent my career teaching and telling people to ‘have faith’; that ‘God is in control’; to’just pray about it’; and on and on my words of ‘comfort and counsel’ had gone.  But now, I was the one that was feeling empty and those ‘comforting words’ were only hand full of thorns that had caused additional pain.

That is until I read C.S Lewis’ “A Grief Observed” … and came across this quote:

 But go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face, and a sound of bolting and double bolting on the inside. After that, silence. You may as well turn away. The longer you wait, the more emphatic the silence will become. There are no lights in the windows. It might be an empty house. Was it ever inhabited? It seemed so once. And that seeming was as strong as this. What can this mean? Why is He so present a commander in our time of prosperity and so very absent a help in time of trouble?

Wow, he described that same deafening silence I was hearing from God!

As I continued reading on this subject I began to find other people who are well known and well thought of in spiritual circles who described their times of ‘spiritual darkness’ or ‘spiritual dryness’.  And as a result, I quit persecuting myself and came to realize that this is only a part (though a very painful part) of the spiritual maturation process.

I have found myself on a part of the spiritual path I was never aware of before the death of Jacob and one I was not prepared to journey, no, not one iota.

For a period of time I felt I had been abandoned.  Lewis’ description of the doorway was all too real to me.  But now I’m realizing, in the midst of the silence, a very different type of closeness to God  -  one that is difficult to describe.

In recent years, my mantra has become “expect nothing and you won’t be disappointed”.  As cynical and skeptical as that sounds it has really helped me to cope with a lot of things. And in a really strange way, it has simplified and deepened my faith and relationship with God.

Let me explain before you say (if you haven’t already been saying it), “Poor, poor, Richard.  He has really slipped down the steps and gone off the deep end.”

In expecting nothing, it has caused a shift of focus from the gifts desired and now onto gratitude for the giver.  Before, prayer and my entire relationship with God hinged on what I hoped to receive out of it. I always came with great expectations.  And those expectations would sometimes end with disappointment.

Now I come with no expectations. I only strive to be aware of His presence.  I have slowly come to appreciate the small things that come my way now.  I have lowered my expectations of great things and big answers.  Now whatever good comes my way, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, I try to celebrate on the gift given and, to a greater extent, the giver giving it.

I now find joy and express thanksgiving in things like:

- a car starting (and stopping)

- the wag of a dog’s tail

- the quietness of early morning

- a night sky full of stars

- the sound of rain

- sunrises and sunsets

- the wonder of hummingbirds

- the comfort of the company of friends

- another day with loved ones

- a comfortable home on a cold, rainy night

- knowledge that my children are well for the moment (and that Jacob is well forever)

- the silent, loving presence of my wife

- acknowledging the worth of a person with a smile and cheerful word

- hearing from a childhood friend through Facebook

- walks in the woods

- watching squirrels quibble over a piece of birdseed

- the babbling of our backyard brook
- viewing a deer grazing in the meadow
- gazing at a picture of my grandchildren which brings a tear to the eye

And yes, even in a death of a loved one. Though, I must say, this one brings no joy and, often, very little verbal thanksgiving.  It does result in a quiet sense of His comforting presence.

I could go on listing things and, I hope, you could too.

All of these ‘insignificant’ encounters assure me that God is present.  He has not forsaken me.  This list of things is evidence of his love and concern for me.  Though I may repel from His love at times, though I may even question His love at times … these items are often used to remind me that He is there.

I’m sure you are thinking that this is the strangest tribute to Thanksgiving you’ve ever read.  But I can say that I am thankful for the silence of God in my life.  For as devastating as it has been, it has also opened up a new dimension of God and his presence in my life.  Happy Thanksgiving to all!!!