"These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives everything its value.” - Thomas Paine
The last day has been whirlwindish*. I walked through my parents' front door for the first time in two weeks to find out my uncle had a heart attack yesterday morning. I'd been expecting that call to be about my grandfather, who's been suffering from Parkinson's for over a decade. As details emerged, I found my uncle, through recognition of pre-heart attack pains, had known what was about to occur. He'd taken aspirin and promptly dialed the ambulance for himself.** They're considering placing a picture of him near the encyclopedia entry on "prescience." At the moment, he is relatively stable, and doctors are debating whether to insert more stents in his heart or go straight to bypass surgery.
It has been a sobering and humbling 24 hours that's seemed twice as long. People I expected to get in touch didn't, and people I contacted out of desperation for more intercession called and prayed over the phone. I've learned a few things. Scares have a way of doing that. They strip away the effluvia of life, the stupid, petty things we deem necessary until the raw shock of the unexpected clears our vision***. They certainly possess the power to force us to evaluate our bases. On what do we depend, do we stand, do we presume shall remain firm beneath our feet?
Scares tend to make one either shut off or completely vulnerable. I don't much care for being vulnerable. The act of being open entails far more trust than I often feel comfortable giving. That's okay sometimes; people cannot always be trusted. It's when I have a dearth of trust in God that the problem starts. Trusting people is risky business, to be sure, but it is sometimes necessary.
I am so thankful for the people who immediately began praying and have continued, and will continue. The simple act of telling someone you care and are involved means so much.
I don't know a better way to conclude than to quote an old song: On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand, all other ground is sinking sand.
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*Shut up, Chrome, I know it isn't a word your prosaic dictionary accepts. I'm a writer. I can make up words if I so deign.
**Yeah, he's a pretty cool uncle.
***'Effluvia' is such a good word.
"Googling" isn't a word according to Chrome. At least, it's not a word in English (UK).
ReplyDeleteFor as much as we live in a country that thrives on tragedy, we don't know what to do or say when it happens in our own lives or in the lives of people we know. We only know how to deal with tragedy when it happens to strangers. And maybe it's because when it happens to us or to people we know, it's all the more real; when it's strangers, we can pretend that it's just another story that doesn't affect us. Most people don't like to deal with existential crises or crises of faith; truthfully, I don't think most people are equipped to handle such crises.
I hope that your uncle is okay.
Fail, Chrome, fail.
ReplyDeleteWe really are terrible at coping and fantastic at panicking and denying. I think it's a learnable skill, but the learning process bites.
From what I know, he will be okayish eventually. He's just been in a high-stress environment day in and day out for the better part of the last seven years, so he's going to need a long time to recuperate.