Steve Ruetschle

From Michelle.  12 July, 2010  8:30 a.m.

Dear friends and family,

I am enjoying a quiet morning back at my favorite place, beside Steve at the hospital.  Yesterday was my first full day balancing my sweet children and my wonderful husband.  I must say, it was a joy to know that they were settling in for the night and return to Harborview to enjoy a few precious moments with Steve before we both went to bed.  I am so grateful to Steve’s parents for watching the children and providing that bit of balance.

Yesterday Steve’s hospital room was ringing with life.  Aidan and Jude were hiding in the closet and playing board games with Sky’s two children while Zephyr was running cars along the floor, and at one point, preciously, running them along Papa’s unresponsive legs – a perfect road!  Both Sky’s wife and our friend Tiffany, an occupational therapist at Harborview, were massaging Steve’s neck and arms, and Steve’s parents were catching up with Steve.  It was a good thing we had a bigger room for the day!

A quick prayer request related to Steve’s room: we heard this morning that we will be transferred to another room again, as this room is for private insurance patients only.  The next room is a double room that is currently unoccupied, and we will be wait listed for a private room, as the double room could get doubly occupied at any time.  In other words, even this third room will likely be temporary.  My prayer is that we would get a room today that is private and permanent for the rest of our stay.  In the big scheme of things it is not an important detail, however it helps make Steve’s seven week stay here more comfortable if he can just settle into a room and a routine.  Even the kids will adjust better, I think.

We are, incidentally, so grateful for all of the staff at Harborview.  Our doctors are excellent, our nurses are kind and thoughtful, and our therapists are equipped to handle both the physical and the emotional challenges of this new life, a rare and lovely combination.  We continue to delight in the fact that 70 percent or so of our nurses are Filipino!

Steve’s prayer requests continue to be for healing.  I realize that it is sensitive to ask folks to pray for complete healing, and you must know that we are also completely willing and planning to make the best of Steve’s injuries as they stand. It is early days, however, and there is much range of recovery.  And God is great.  So we are praying boldly but with humble hearts for whatever our future brings.  In the short term, we are still praying for fingers (no movement yet there, but there are anecdotes where these come back later) and for the major functions that improve independence, like bowel and bladder control.  Last night I discovered some resistance in Steve’s right leg.  In other words, some small nerve response is happening there.  We pray for more!

I have a wonderful praise report!  We have indeed found a house to rent, a beautiful place in Edmonds that is already wheelchair accessible.  It is a wonderful God story; a friend of a friend whose son had a similar injury three years ago.  Her trial has now become our blessing, a beautiful place to recover for a time.  We are so, so grateful!

I am reminded again of a piece of 2Samuel 22:17-20, “He sent from on high, he took me; he drew me out of many waters.  He rescued me from my strong enemy, from those who hated me, for they were too mighty for me.  They confronted me in my day of calamity, but the Lord was my support.  He brought me out into a broad place; he rescued me, because he delighted in me.”

We feel God continually rescuing us in our calamity.  Thank you always for the ways you participate in that rescue, in thought, word and deed!  We both weep with awe at it.

Love,
Michelle

From Sean. 10 July, 2010. 8:00pm pst.

Steve as I type is having a wonderful time and conversation with Patti Harris, a Council member of the Union Church of Manila. She re-routed a trip to Portland in order to see Steve. She is kind, and wise, and comes bearing love from the entire church in Manila.

Michelle is having a blessed reunion with the boys at the house. Steve’s parents, John and Darlene, flew with the boys from Ohio, arriving in Seattle tonight at 6pm. Michelle will spend her first night away from Steve in the embrace and joyful chaos of her boys.  They’ll all come to the hospital tomorrow; the boys will finally be with their papa.

Steve is also really looking forward to watching the World Cup final with everyone… with his parents, his boys, the hospital staff; it will be a full room here at Harborview.

Speaking of the World Cup: in honor of the fact that Steve was up in the wheelchair for a **record six hours** today, I have vuvuzela-ed his website: click here and turn up your speakers.

There is other wonderful news from today that I’ll let Michelle share, but one thought to bookend this post from several weeks ago: As (this) tragedy makes things and people transparent, in this vigil by Steve’s bedside one thing continues to vulnerably reveal itself: gratitude.

Frequently–and particularly in the midst of extraordinary suffering–platitudes can be, well, irrelevant. Or even dissociative. Nevertheless, I’ll risk another platitude: whenever gratitude is felt and expressed, fear dissolves.

Here on the 4th floor of Harborview there has been crushing grief; sacred weeping. There has been laughter (Steve often manages to break through the surface of pain to breathe in a smile or a laugh before plunging back into the struggle). There has been uncertainty. And kindness.

And there is constant prayer: prayer saturating every moment; prayer not as mere words, but also the kind of prayer where instead of you praying the prayer; the prayer prays you. Sighs and groans too deep for words; the Spirit intercedes and prays you.

And, gratitude.

Fear-dispelling gratitude. Steve and Michelle are grieving losses of such immense variety; and they are both… grateful. For each other. For their children. For family… and friends. For the staff here at Harborview. For the view. For simple needs met by unexpected people. For tears.

For you.

So tonight, while Michelle is away from the hospital and reuniting with the boys; while Steve is now (I’m writing this after many pauses) sleeping and snoring; I’ll end this post with a prayer of gratitude for the One who is everywhere present; filling all things; facing us all:

In 1940 a Russian Orthodox priest, very shortly before his death in a Soviet concentration camp, wrote the following service of prayer.

The Akathist of Thanksgiving.
Ikos 6.

When swift lightning illumines the night, how pitiful and miserable our earthly candles seem. So also, deceitful earthly joys become colorless and dark when Your light bursts forth in the soul. My soul rushes toward You and my heart yearns for You.

Glory to You
beyond the limit of the highest human dream!
Glory to You
for our thirst for You.
Glory to You
Who inspires in us dissatisfaction with mortal things.
Glory to You
who clothes us in light.
Glory to You
Who has doomed to annihilation every kind of evil.

Glory to You for Your revelation, for the blessedness of feeling You and living You.
Glory to You, O God, now and ever and unto the ages of ages!

From Michelle.  9 July, 2010 6:42 p.m.

Dear friends and family,

Today is the three week anniversary of Steve’s accident.  It is hard to believe it has been so short a time, as a whole world has closed and another has opened in what feels both like a heartbeat and an eternity.

There is much to be thankful for:  1.  Steve is now sleeping better.  Despite being moved every two hours, he sleeps well in between and is clearly feeling more refreshed in the morning.  2.  Steve’s fevers have subsided.  For two days now, Steve has had a relatively stable temperature, an especially great blessing for a spinal cord injury patient, as they are sensitive to temperature changes.  3.  Steve’s pain level has improved.  He is able to sit up higher in bed for longer periods, and miracle of miracles, he is sitting in his chair for HOURS at a time, something that seemed impossible earlier this week.  4.  Steve is able to move several toes at will.  He is also building on his current skill set.  Today, he managed to shave most of his beard on his own with a simple hand-held contraption.  He is also working on balancing his body with his arms while sitting, something that would have been impossible a short time ago.  5.  We are also settling into the unit, getting to know our wonderful doctors, nurses and therapists, and generally getting a feel for the place.

The boys come tomorrow.  We cannot wait to put our arms around them!  While in some ways life will be more complicated, their light and smiles and stories will be a breath of life in these stale hospital corridors.  I can already see Zephyr running up and down the hallways, giggling and laughing!  Steve has been practicing the Wii with the recreational therapists, and can play a game or two of tennis without too much trouble, as a way to engage the big boys.  They will enjoy beating their Dad for a change!

We were suddenly moved to a new room today.  While it lacks the waterfront view, it is incredibly spacious and I am picturing plenty of room for my boys to play and sprawl on the floor while family and friends visit with Steve.

Occasionally the reality of our situation hits, but for the most part we navigate a surreal parade of appointments and short term tasks, as well as an avalanche of decisions.  Steve is full of kind words for those he sees, and I am so grateful that despite his bodily “absence,” he is so spiritually and soulfully present.  We are both constantly filled with immense gratitude at the enormous outpouring of love and prayers.  I say it often, but it truly does carry us.

We are narrowing in on a possible home.  I will refrain from sharing in any detail until it is fully confirmed, however I ask specifically for prayers that God would continue to clearly lead the way and abundantly bless the owner of the home as she contemplates making it available to us.  (For all of you who have served us so bountifully, I receive it with that very same hope!)  God has been and continues to be so very faithful in the details!

Today I draw strength from a verse that has often upheld me in my life, Psalm 73:23-26: “Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand.  You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me in glory.  Whom have I in heaven but you?  And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.  My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion forever.”

Several years ago when I had a blog, I called it “my portion forever” based on these verses.  And I feel it even more so now.  I am aware that I can see this situation with earthly eyes or with spiritual eyes.  With my earthly eyes, there is devastation, mixed with some small amount of human triumph.  With my spiritual eyes there is an enormous opportunity to be purified, to grow, to identify with Christ in his suffering and with others in their suffering, to allow love to be expressed in a very special way, and perhaps most importantly, to experience God’s strength in my weakness.

I feel His strength, and His loving eyes.  It is indeed the strength of my heart.

With love and gratitude,
Michelle

From Mark Ruetschle.  July 7, 2010.

In the aftermath of Steve’s accident we have all been moved by the outpouring of prayers and support from thousands of people around the world.  There have been many specific requests from supporters wanting to offer financial help for Steve and his family, which are greatly needed.

I am happy to report that both the legal and financial structure have been set up to start receiving funds to help Steve.

There is a special legal vehicle for cases likes Steve’s called a Special Needs Trust.  The Trust is designed to provide for the extra care that Steve will need as a result of his spinal cord injury.  The Trust is a place for funds that will help provide for the supplemental care and support for Steve that is over and above what will be provided by his limited insurance policy, and state and federal assistance.

As it stands today, Steve’s primary insurance coverage for treatment in the United States will run out on August 31, 2010.  In fact, insurance coverage in the United States for the entire family expires on August 31.  In order to provide continued insurance coverage for Steve past August 31, Steve has applied for Medicaid.

While we do not today have exact figures needed to cover the myriad costs, we do know that Steve, Michelle, and the three boys need our prayer, encouragement, and our financial help.

The money you contribute to the Special Needs Trust will be used for very practical things like physical and occupational therapy, as well as the specialized equipment that will assist Steve in living as independent a life as possible.  Additionally, the Trust recognizes that Steve has a wife and 3 young boys, and while prioritizing Steve’s extraordinary needs, the Trust offers the flexibility to provide for the health, education, and general support for the entire family.

Steve and Michelle have been deeply moved by your many requests to help in this very tangible way.  They have been overwhelmed by the love and generosity expressed in your prayers, encouragements, and desire to give.

Mark Ruetschle
Trustee

From Michelle.  7 July, 2010  9 a.m.

Dear friends and family,

It seems like days since I last wrote, although it has been a mere thirty-six hours.  I am happy to report that Steve and I did indeed have a wonderful time worshiping together and remembering God’s goodness this last Sunday night.

It is strange to say this in this current context, but when I come into God’s presence, I feel emanating from Him a quiet but somehow effusive joy.

I keep thinking of Job.  It says in James 5:10-11, “As an example of suffering and patience, brothers and sisters, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord.  Behold, we consider those blessed who remain steadfast.  You have heard of the steadfastness of Job, and you have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful.”

While the story of Job’s suffering will forever be a mystery, two things remain with me:

1. that God blessed Job with double what he had before, and

2. that in answer to the question of suffering, God reminds Job of his character and greatness.

Somehow, I sense even now, God’s richest plans and blessings for our future.  I also notice that when I am conscious of God’s good character, I am deeply fortified and filled with hope.  That blessing will come in whatever surprising form, and probably not how I would wish it, but in my best moments, I believe I will find it.  I cannot speak for Steve in this process, but my hope and my sense of his character makes me believe he will find it too.

None of this underestimates the very real current suffering.

Steve cannot roll over on his own, let alone do a host of other things for himself.  He struggles to sit up even for an hour in a wheelchair, his face white and covered in sweat with the pain and effort.  He is deeply restless, unable to move his legs.  He strains to imperceptibly move his little toe.  He feels shattered to think of the effect of his condition on those he loves.  He is processing a whole world of loss.

But at the same time, he loves, he blesses, he endures.

As the bible says, suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character, character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame.    Steve has both endurance and character, and I am watching his hope being born, at least in the last two days. Yesterday he spoke with a pastor in California who suffered a similar accident.  The conversation filled Steve with hope, and that hope colored much of the rest of the day.

To speak so boldly about a suffering that is not my own is presumptuous.  I mostly process my own small portion this way.  But I also know my husband, and I  know the God in whom he trusts.  So the phrase I cling to today is the following:

“And God blessed the latter days of Job more than the beginning.”  Job 42:12

Love and blessings to you all,

Michelle

PS:  I stopped by the house yesterday for a rare peaceful interlude.  I cannot tell you how enveloped I felt in the very real care, the hands and feet of love, that so thoughtfully prepared our home for us.  Each time I stop by, I see another thoughtful detail.  I am overwhelmed with love and gratitude!

A note from Steve’s sister Kim Fessel:

Hello everyone. I am Steve’s sister Kim. I too, would like to extend a huge heartfelt thank you to all who have held Steve, Michelle and our entire family in your thoughts and prayers.

I look back at all of that has transpired over the past 15 days and I see God’s hand at work. I think my brother Mike so beautifully acknowledged and thanked everyone involved in Steve’s care both behind the scenes and in the forefront, so I would like to take this opportunity to thank each person and family that has written on Steve’s guestbook. Wow…you are amazing!

Please know your words have touched my heart so deeply and the tears I have shed, which have been many, are gently wiped away with your prayers, bible verses, poem, lyrics, stories of courage and faith, and your words of hope and love for a man and a family many of you have never met.

For me…that knowing is miraculous. To think of thousands of people across this vast world all united in thought and prayer for this extraordinary man and woman and his family. Truly, may God bless each and every one of you abundantly.

For now it is one day at a time. I know God has a special plan for you, my beloved brother, one filled with hope and love and peace. I know I love you with all my heart. And lastly I know I have always held a special place in your heart, and after a long talk or written in a card, you used to say to me “you are my hero, don’t ever forget that.”  So now dear brother, I am saying it back to you…you are my hero, don’t ever forget that…

So go do what you do best. Shine a light for the world to see…

I love you,

Kim

4 July, 2010  7 p.m.

Dear friends and family,

Today was a quiet day, a welcome interlude between the busy front of therapy visits and the daily deluge of administrative details.  Quiet is relative, as Steve needs to be turned every two hours to avoid bed sores, have his vitals checked, take his meds and reintroduce himself to each nurse as they begin their shift.

Nevertheless, in a manner of speaking, we sabbathed; on my part, resolving not to make a single major decision (and there are many to be made!), and on his part, giving his body and mind a break from all of the details of self care and exercises related to therapy.

Steve continues to struggle with pain, and repeatedly states that this is his most immediate prayer request.  Pain is a constant companion, dictating how long he can bear to sit up to eat a meal; how much attention he can give to a conversation and most importantly; how much he can work on exercising and moving his body in order to regain strength and mobility.

Steve’s spirit remains strong, however, both in his ability to be kind and humorous in the midst of his body’s paralysis and discomfort, and in his ability to face and process his grief.  In a true expression of his lovely heart, his greatest pain is the effect of this accident on myself and the children.

Thank God for technology!  Today we spent lovely time with the children from the comfort of our bed, a computer propped on my lap, aimed at the pillow where our heads rested together.  The children are well, full of stories of time with their cousins and the wonders of Wii and DS games (yes, we have broken all rules and allowed them to have both!).  Even little Zephyr smiles and giggles at the screen delightfully, showing us his favorite toys, happy to see us but seemingly not all too distressed by our distance.  God has been so good to keep their emotions so mercifully protected.

As I attempt to sabbath, I remember Jesus’ invitation, “Come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”  In the midst of the chaos, I sometimes forget to rest in that sweet shade of love.  Now that we are briefly alone, I think that I will crawl in with Steve and do just that.

As we rest, please pray, as Steve asks, for his pain to be beautifully, miraculously lifted.  Steve also has a blood clot in his leg.  They are not alarmed but they are watching it.  I pray that when they check again, it will be gone.

Steve’s fevers also come and go.  I pray for rest for him from these extraneous battles so that he may fight the most immediate one, that of recovering as much movement as he can.

I find myself longing for a hopeful sign, a wiggling finger, and curling toe, to assure us that God is at work.  I am reminded, however, to wait on the Lord. “Those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall rise up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” Isaiah 40:31.  My restless, exhausting urge for progress must be laid at God’s feet, as I rest in His goodness working even now.  There is much for me to learn!

Please also pray for the details this week: a wheelchair accessible home ready and waiting in 6 to 8 weeks, clarity with the host of financial decisions, and wisdom as we navigate the systems surrounding disability.  Our situation is so terribly complex as we seek to build a temporary home away from our real home in Manila, and as we navigate the US system with Philippine insurance coverage.

God has been faithful thus far, and I look forward to seeing what He does!  In the meantime, we will rest and sabbath together for the few precious hours of downtime before nightfall.

Happy fourth of July to everyone!

Love,
Michelle