Paul was diagnosed with cancer in mid-December, and by January was moved into the hospice wing of the hospital with what was projected to be four, maybe six months left to live. I was told their goal was getting him well enough to make the journey back to Hawaii for his remaining time so they could both be with their families there. They would leave as soon as he was released by the doctors to make the journey. I felt a huge sense of loss upon hearing the news. I barely knew Paul, but I knew his wife well, and grew to love her in a very short period of time. I felt of their spirit and generosity, and it seemed the world was losing a great man too soon, and I would miss them dearly.
I didn't know what to do, but the scriptures tell us to "mourn with those that mourn, and comfort those who stand in need of comfort", so I set off for the hospital the first day they allowed visitors with a note telling Molly that while I felt a bit helpless, I hoped she knew that I was mourning with them, and praying with, and for them.
When I reached Paul's room, Molly walked me to the cafeteria and, to my surprise, told me a story of hope and potential, rather than a story focused on "the time they had left". Paul had chosen not to accept his diagnosed fate, and decided to fight in every way he could. In fact, the morning after a 10 hour surgery during which more than one organ was removed, he was walking the halls. The doctor was astounded. The nurses in the hospice wing didn't know what to do when he asked for a walker. No one else in hospice bothered trying to get out of bed. He wasn't given any treatment options based on his diagnosis, but he started getting some natural treatments, and by the time I got there, was not even taking much of his pain medications.
Not only was Molly's explanation of their time in the hospital filled with hope and peace, during the time we spent together, I suddenly realized Molly had coaxed me into talking about my problems, and was talking me through my aches, when I had really come to be there for her.
I walked into Paul's room, and listened to him share his feelings of peace as he felt prayers reach his bed from people who didn't even know him. He expressed his faith in God, accepting His will whole-heartedly, and told me that if his only purpose was bringing a bit of joy to the lives of the nurses in the hospice wing, that was good enough. I was in awe at his cheerful disposition, and his ability to make jokes and fill the room with light. And I felt a certainty that whether or not he lived, the Lord had a purpose for him, and he would live to see that through.
Since that time, Paul and Molly were able to make the journey back home. He was doing so well in Hawaii that he was kicked out of the hospice wing, and last I heard they were trying to get his weight up so they could start treatments.
I left Paul's hospital room with the desire to keep the following things in my heart:
1. Our prayers count. Whether we're praying for someone we're close to, or someone we've been asked to pray for, God hears us, and He answers according to His will.
2. Our attitude matters. We don't know how long Paul will be with us, but I firmly believe he is still here today because he chose not to give up. Whatever our challenges, and whatever life hands us, we have a choice about how we respond.
3. God is a God of miracles. The fact that Paul made the journey from Florida to Hawaii is a miracle, made possible by lots of prayers and faith. He provides miracles in big ways and small everyday and if we are looking, we will see them.
4. It's always worth acting, even when we don't know exactly what to do. I feel so blessed to share the time I did in the hospital with Molly and Paul. They touched my life so much in a few short minutes. I am often the one that stands back, not knowing what to do if I don't have a tangible way to serve. But I'm so grateful I took the time to share my love, even though I didn't know Paul well. I gained so much more than I ever gave in learning from two people who live close to the Lord and have followed His path throughout their journey in this life.
5. Being uncommon means having the courage to fight, to take a chance, to believe when all the odds are against you, while having the faith to believe and trust in God's perfect plan.
Molly and Paul on their 21st wedding anniversary - 2 months after diagnosis |
1 comment:
Wonderful lessons to learn and share.
Post a Comment