The Choice to Live and Die

I felt as if death was slapping me in the face as I encountered two grim situations one day apart. This is medical nursing, and I guess I've had quite an initiation to it on day 1 and day 2. Yesterday handed me the opportunity to not only witness, but participate in my first code. Recently diagnosed with metastatic cancer, she did not survive. We repeated the resuscitation process three times to bring her to some sort of vague stability, but we could have kept on doing that over and over - a strong heart at age 48 - she would have kept coming back. But what would her quality of life be? Who knew how much brain damage was ocurring as her heart rate dropped to 28 and her O2 saturation to 75% repeatedly? Newly diagnosed, her family had no time to discuss end of life directives, so she remained a full code. But did her family really want to sustain her 'life' on a ventilator? Thankfully, in the moment of rushed trauma when time is a blur, the daughter decided to stop... And then again today, just after break, I found a patient I helped to feed just moments ago had breathed his last. Packing up his body to bring him to the morgue, I pondered about what the substance of life is. How is it that moments ago, I was talking with him, responding to his requests for apple juice, checking that his IV was infusing well, asking if he was in pain - and then, in the next moment he was gone. That which was so much alive in one moment, was gone the next. What is it that is the substance of life? What gives and makes life, and takes it away? The breath of God, yes, but what is that substance? It doesn't have tangible substance. The body before me lay empty.

'THE LORD GOD FORMED THE MAN FROM THE DUST OF THE GROUND AND BREATHED INTO HIS NOSTRILS THE BREATH OF LIFE, AND THE MAN BECAME A LIVING BEING' genesis 2:7

Yes, it is God that gives and takes life. But just as God displays his sovereignty, we also have choice. This morning as I tended to him to get him washed up for the day, he asked if his daughter was there yet. I told him she wasn't and asked if he expected her. He said he did. When I was off the ward, his daughter came and sat with him... He breathed his last breaths only moments after. It seemed as if he held on, waiting until she arrived before he left. There are countless stories similar to this, where a loved one has 'held on' until there is a sense of peace and release over the dying one... A daughter exceedingly gives her time and energy to care for her father, and she hasn't yet settled in her heart that he is dying. When she arrives to this point, she speaks these words to him: 'I release you...' And he dies just a few days following...

What?! This seems so unreal! I guess I've always thought of the nature of our God given will in the context of our lives and the choices we make - God is sovereign, but He has given us choice as well. It's new to me to think of death as a life experience. It is a life experience, even of our earthly lives. The examples above show us how, to a certain extent, we have choice in our death. But isn't this true even beyond the examples from above, outside the context of someone with a failing body? Don't we make a choice about the timing of our death if we continually put ourselves in threatening situations, drive recklessly, or refuse treatments for a curable cancer? I think of it as God's blanket of sovereignty that covers our choices both in life and in death. In the end, He still has the last say. After all, what did I conclude before? It is GOD that gives and takes life; He breathes and relinquishes life. I consider how this choice in death relates to my life, and the choices I have made. I know that proceeding with the call I believe God has given me puts me at greater risk of harm, and potentially death at a sooner point in time than if I were to stay in North America. But if this is the purpose God has for me, and I turn the other way toward safety and comfort, then am I really living?

My head hurts from all this thinking. :)

Lookin' Up

Ananda Perera's life so clearly displayed the high value that he placed on Christ and I want mine to do the same. For him, it was Christ above everything. Of anyone that knew him, all would agree he took every opportunity in his life to proclaim Christ and influence others for Him. He was abandoned to God and unashamed to share the reason for his confident hope. He was bold, determined, and charismatic.

The pastor that officiated his memorial service said that God's timing is always perfect and this is true even in the appointed day of Ananda's death. I almost didn't go to the service, but I am so glad that I did because in a timely way, God touched my heart. His death, because of his life, is a profound inspiration to me. Reminiscing on his life today ministered to my weary heart and I felt greatly encouraged to 'keep on'... There IS reason to hold His dreams close to my heart and to not lose hope. Death persistently reminds me of what it is I really want: to live Christ; no matter the cost, no matter the pain, no matter the struggle. He is worthy.

Ananda was the closest living example to the Apostle Paul that I know of and I am so blessed to have known him. Thank you, Ananda, for giving your life to the Lord and serving Him wholeheartedly to impact so many. Halleluia.

The Hard Stuff.
I'm tired.
I'm tired of hoping, waiting, wishing. I'm tired of all the effort it takes to hope for those people, envisioning what ought to be... what is right, what is just. I'm just tired. Hope is hard, it hurts, it feels like there is no purpose right now. How long, how long must we sing this song? How long... I hope and wait for so many things, and today, I feel overcome with the empty weariness that it has brought me. I don't feel any further along the road in the realization of these desires, I feel stagnant, at a standstill. But it's not even of my doing. I do all I can, I pray, I give it over to the One... and then I am at my end. It is God's doing... He has to act. And... frankly, I'm so tired of waiting for you God. I'm tired of praying, I'm tired of asking. I don't even have much to give, but I pray, just this last time, pierce through, please pierce through her heart. Pierce through all the darkness, all the self-sufficiency, all the complacency. I read a letter from 4 years back that referred to these same concerns. I felt as if the words of the letter could have been written yesterday and still been as relevant to the situation now as they were then... Jesus, how is it that we are in the exact same place as we were 4 years ago? Are you not doing anything? Why no change? Have you heard these prayers? What are you waiting for? Are you working, but just under the surface? How long...

I wrote the above a few days ago, and I still feel this, but perhaps some new thoughts will begin to lift my spirit.

DREAMS. WAITING. TIME. recently those themes have come up over and over again and I wonder if there are connections that I can draw between them... wondering why they seem to arise repeatedly in different contexts. This afternoon I went for a long, long, long run and for the first part, my thoughts wrestled with God about the weariness of the hopes of my heart. For the first time in my life, I feel my will wanting to run away from the calling and dream He has given me. Entering into that place of hope and envisioning what ought to be--and the practicalities of what it means to get there--has become too heavy a burden for me - it's freakin' hard! I feel the pain of the place, and I'm 1/2 a world away. All of the factors that will need to be overcome to instill transformation appear to me like an impenetrable labyrinth. This is the darkness. The light is so very bleak. The hope is waning, and shoot, I'm not even there yet! This is my prayer: How long... How long must we sing this song? These are the contemplations of my heart...

But 1/2 way through my run today, I stopped to sit on a log to look out on the water and think. At first I was going to look at my watch to see how much time I could afford and then I redirected myself 'no, I'm going to enjoy this moment, no matter how long, and I'm going to let time just go on by...' that decision opened up my thoughts about time again - my desire to in some respects, live outside of time in my life... to think of time as eternity, endless, and not merely the days and years of my own life here on earth. Somehow that perspective makes the mission before me not as heavy or pressured. And somehow it makes the waiting for emancipated dreams not quite as painful. Four years? What is four years compared to eternity? To see change in that place, it will take longer and longer, but... somehow if I think of time over an expanded span, the frustrations of my heart feel better cared for. Dreams, prayers, hopes all have equal meaning and similar definitions to me right now...

I still ask: How long...?

Then my sweat dried and my skin got cold, and in that moment, the natural thing to do was to start running again. And so I press on...

Do you hear the people sing?
Lost in the valley of the night,
It is the music of a people who are climbing to the light.
For the wretched of the earth
There is a flame that never dies.
Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.
They will live again in freedom in the garden of the Lord.
They will walk behind the ploughshare, they will put away the sword.
The chain will be broken and all men will have their reward!

Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Somewhere beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see?
Do you hear the people sing?
Say, do you hear the distant drums?
There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!

Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Somewhere beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see?
Do you hear the people sing?
Say, do you hear the distant drums?
There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!

Ahhhhh!
Tomorrow comes!

--Les Miserables finale--

12:34 Make a Wish!
I don't live my days with my eyes glued to the clock. In fact, when I am on vacation or break with no schedule, I frequently take my watch off, because, in a way, that is freedom to me. But with that said, I happen to look at the clock at 12:34 a lot. WHY?!! Whenever I see that time, the saying 'One, two, three, four, make a wish!' runs through my head. How does it happen that I end up reading that time at least once every other day? Or... do other people too, and just don't make a big deal about it? It's odd to me, and even though it's just a lucky superstition that doesn't really mean anything, I still do the honors of wishing. No matter what time it is, it is always time to dream - time to envision what we want to see changed in this world - by large and by small. Justice, freedom, hope, peace, joy and love. These are the things I dream to see more of. No matter the reason for my frequent glancing at the clock at 12:34, it remains a wonderful reminder to wish and dream.

"If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time." - Marcel Proust