From Michelle. 9 November, 2010.
Dear friends and family,
This has been a hard week. Overall, this last month has been a rewarding uphill climb, leading almost daily to fresh new vistas, greater capacity, more hope. But there were bound to be more discouraging notes in the repetitively optimistic refrain, and here we are, singing in a minor key!
As we talked about it today, Steve likened it to the stage in a marathon where you want to give up, that inevitable moment that you just have to push through where it just doesn’t seem worth it, where it seems far more enticing to throw in the towel than to proceed. He followed this up with a quick assurance that indeed he WOULD proceed, however it did not diminish the powerful temptation to simply throw in the towel.
It began with the news about his shoulder. As most of you know, Steve has several tears in his shoulder, typical of sports injuries, some old and some new, possibly caused by the accident or its aftermath. These injuries cause pain when he uses his right arm and he had been advised to lay off of it as much as possible until a long awaited appointment with a specialist, which finally happened last week. The specialist, however, was so concerned with how frozen Steve’s shoulder had become from lack of use that he did not even address fixing the tears! Instead we have now increased Steve’s appointments at Harborview to at least four times a week so that a therapist can painfully “crank” on his shoulder, or in other words, unfreeze it. This involves more hours of driving and a more complex therapy structure, not to mention the discouraging prospect that any meaningful treatment of the tears will be a long way off. Until the shoulder is fully healed, Steve cannot use or exercise his arms rigorously, and the sense of returning strength and progress to these essential body parts is postponed.
That same day, they discovered bursitis in Steve’s elbow, a fluid that has gathered around the joint, most likely from the constant movement and pressure on the elbow from driving the wheelchair. While this is not a serious condition, it was another ailment to address.
Several days later, Steve found walking unusually painful in his left leg, and his foot seemed to behave oddly, inhibiting his walking. His usually enthusiastic trainer advised him to cancel his next session and take a break. It looks like Steve has developed a shin splint in his left leg, most likely from overdoing it at the pool the day before. Again, not a grave condition, but nevertheless an inconvenience that has kept him from the therapies that keep him motivated and keep the progress coming.
The final blow came yesterday and today. Steve has been experiencing an unusual amount of spasms in his legs, particularly in his hamstrings. This new development stirs a long held and legitimate fear that Steve has had, that spasms might get stronger in his body and ultimately prevent him from walking in any meaningful sense. Spasms tend to fluctuate in spinal cord injury patients, the result of an inordinate number of messages being sent from the brain to a particular body part, and their process has been difficult to predict. While he has always had them, they have not significantly interfered with his progress. Today, however, they did.
I have often spoken of the fragility of hope, and of the increasing delicacy and vulnerability of that hope as its realization approaches. Each little set back is like a rock thrown at that fragile cobweb of desire, with ever fewer strands holding it together. I can see the tatters fluttering in Steve’s eyes even as he soldiers on through the moment when everything in him says he might as well give up.
These are days when we must choose very decisively how to respond to our emotions, when we must choose very deliberately what story we are going to tell. Is the world unwell, is God unfaithful because of these set backs? No! Is it difficult and discouraging? Yes!
Steve, in his teaching on the psalms, has often cited the fact that so very many of the psalms are laments. I have always loved that the bible allows so much room for the honest wrestling of believers with their maker. Certainly, we are not meant to absorb suffering without emotion or complaint or struggle. The general structure of a lament psalm follows a particular pattern: a complaint followed by a request followed by an expression of trust. In our prayers, the pattern is the same. The path of pain in its redemptive phase ultimately leads us to a posture of trust. Leaving the questions behind, we find ourselves, like Job, simply standing small but seen in the presence of something greater. And we wait.
A few verses from a lament psalm (psalm 69:1-3,13,16,18, 32-34) that spoke to me today as I thought of Steve:
Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck.
I sink in deep mire where there is no foothold;
I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me.
I am weary with crying out, my throat is parched.
My eyes grow dim with waiting for my God.
…
But as for me, my prayer is to you, O Lord,
At an acceptable time, O God,
in the abundance of your steadfast love answer me in your saving faithfulness.
…
Answer me, O Lord, for your steadfast love is good;
draw near to my soul, redeem me.
…
You who seek God, let your hearts revive.
For the Lord hears the needy…
…
Let heaven and earth praise him!
Please continue to pray with me for Steve, for his healing, for his fragile hope, for his perseverance through this point in the race, and for a continued trust in something greater. He continues to amaze me with his faithfulness, with his amazing capacity to love even in the midst of his own fear and suffering, and with his endurance and trust. His spirit remains beautiful and strong, while also deeply challenged.
We both continue to be amazed and heartened by all of your love and support. We covet your prayers, that make a difference.
Love,
Michelle