The Gift of Existence

It would have been easier to die.

Kevin Thorson lay paralyzed in the grass of a church lawn in Canada, unable to move or breathe. Moments earlier, he missed a rotation while practicing backflips with a friend. He fell on his head and broke his neck nearly at his skull. As the friend ran for help, he lay there alone, fading into blackness as he fell unconscious.

He told us later that it was at the moment he felt himself near death that the presence of God came to him. The sense of the next world was intensely powerful, forever making this side of the veil seem the impostor. It would have been quick, even merciful, to have slipped quietly away to join God.

God wasn't there to take Kevin to heaven, though.

Instead, He had a message for Kevin. A voice so real Kevin thought it was audible told him, “You’re going to be okay.”

He awakened not okay. He was in a desperate fight for his life. Emergency personnel worked feverishly to keep him alive until he could be put on life support. He endured a helicopter ride to a larger hospital in Calgary, a doctor’s push for euthanasia, surgeries, pneumonia, bronchoscopy, paralysis, loss of privacy, and much pain in the first weeks before he returned home.

Later he endured serious infections landing him in intensive care. He had more surgeries for kidney stones. He spent two years on the ventilator before weaning off it during his waking hours, a feat declared an impossibility by his doctors. 

He regained more than they expected, but not enough for a normal life.

The loss was profound. It came in layers as the reality of the depth of his disability struck home. Some days he grieved over the dreams he would never see realized. Other days he longed for just the feel of grass beneath his feet again.

As victories came, like breathing on his own and taking his first steps and running a computer, his soul began to revive. He began to truly appreciate being alive. Watching him struggle to live out his faith despite profound brokenness, I began to see how completely God had brought to pass what He promised Kevin: 

He would be okay.

Existence, in all its facets, is a gift.

It is the man who has been told he would never breathe on his own who appreciates the feeling of air in his lungs.

It is the man who has endured great pain who appreciates a day when his body is at peace.

It is the man who once lost all feeling who takes joy in the warmth of the sun on his arms, the softness of a kitten’s fur beneath his fingers, and his legs under him again as he takes his first shaky steps.

It is the man who has had everything taken away who treasures anything given back.

Only when faced with loss do we truly understand the value of life.

To exist is to be. We are made in mirror image of our Creator, who calls Himself the great “I AM.” We were made to experience. We were made to feel, to love, to laugh, to hurt.

Those who say, “I would never want to live like that” must give room to those who do want to live, even if it is “like that.” The disabled and the vulnerable and the aged and the pre-born have no duty to die because their existence is inconvenient for others.

Yes, it would have been easier for Kevin to die that awful day in 1997. But what richness of life we would have missed in knowing him! The world is a better place because he exists.

Easier is not the same as better.

If you have ever contemplated how much easier it would be to be dead, talk to Kevin. He will tell you the gift is worth the fight. Check out the website Kevin founded and manages today. He is the owner/administrator of CMADDICT.com, a premier source of free Christian music and more. He would be glad to talk to you.

Photo Courtesy Grace Thorson 2023

Threads

For You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother's womb.  - Psalm 139:13

You're Complicated.

You probably guessed that. You may have even been told that a few times by a frustrated friend, co-worker, or family member. You may not have realized, though, just how complex you really are.

According to National Geographic, the average human body contains thirty trillion cells. 1. Each individual genome, or set of instructions for the development and operation of one person, contains approximately three billion base pairs of the chemical code that comprise our DNA, attached to twenty-three pairs of chromosomes. 2. This chemical code determines our sex, what we will look like, and much more. That's why it's called the master blueprint of the body. 3.

There is, in fact, nothing simple about the "simple cell." Each individual cell in your body is a finely-tuned factory working closely with the other cells of the body to sustain your life. You are not generally aware of the incredible processes of the systems keeping you alive, but you know when something isn't working correctly. The body strives to stay at a pre-set "normal," a state known as homeostasis, and even a small change in those processes can threaten your health or your life.

All that, and you're just one person.

On a planet filled with over eight billion people, it's easy to feel inconsequential. It's even easier to see others as inconsequential, especially if their lives don't meet society's expectations or they become inconvenient. The aged, the weak, the disabled, the unplanned, seem expendable from that perspective. What's one damaged life out of so many?

What's one broken thread in the fabric of God's plan for mankind?

Only everything. Just as every thread is needed to complete a work of art by a master weaver, so every life holds an important place in His plan for the world that is and the world to come.

Complexity points to a designer. A piece of art proves the existence of an artist. We all know that an intricately woven fabric is not made by dumping a bunch of thread on a loom. Someone must create it.

You're part of a grand design.

You and I are living threads in the hands of a Creator immense in power, limitless in imagination, and exquisite in the care with which He fashions His world. The skill with which He wove you in the womb, in all its unfathomable precision, pales beside the magnitude of the loom upon which He crafts history's story. 

Not only are you a vital part of that plan, so is every other human. Our job is not to decide the value of others on this earth, but to respect every person's value before God. Only He knows which threads will display the bold, royal colors of the kingdom, and which will carry the softer shades of grace. All are needed to complete the heavenly canvas upon which His story is revealed.

You matter. So does the homeless man on the corner, the baby with Down's Syndrome, and the elderly woman with Alzheimer's. May God forgive us for thinking we can choose the design for Him, for believing we know best.

My bones were not hidden from you when I was being made in secret, when I was being skillfully woven in an underground workshop.   

- Psalm 139:15 (GOD'S WORD Translation)

 1.http://news.nationalgeographic.com/2016/01/160111-microbiome-estimate-count-ratio-human-health-science/

2.https://www.genome.gov/11006943/human-genome-project-completion-frequently-asked-questions/

3.http://science.howstuffworks.com/life/cellular-microscopic/dna5.htm

What One "Useless Life" Taught Me

 

Just one old woman.

She lay against the stark white sheets of the gurney, her face gray and her hands bent awkwardly inward. A series of strokes had long-silenced her lilting Southern twang, and she communicated much as an infant does, her cries and grunts only distinguishable to the initiated. At the sight of me, her face contorted in a pathetic wail, brownish-red drool drizzling from one corner of her mouth.

"Pneumonia," someone at the nursing had said two hours earlier, when they first called to tell me that they were sending my mother to the hospital. I had quickly arranged my schedule to meet her at the emergency room when she arrived. My brother joined me in the waiting room, and we watched in vain for her arrival. Finally I checked again at the desk and discovered she had not yet been sent down from the nursing home.

I called the home and learned they were still awaiting the doctor's order to transport her down. We waited some more. I called the doctor's office to see what was happening. No one knew. After two hours, she finally landed in the emergency room, where she lay untreated as busy nurses and techs buzzed around the nurses' station. I could only guess they were waiting for doctor's orders to proceed.

She continued to cry. We continued to wait. I stood at her side, stroking her hair and murmuring meaningless words of comfort as I choked back angry tears.

No one ever came in the room to care for her.

Something was definitely wrong, and I finally lost my patience. I summoned my nerve and marched out to the nurses' station. "Is Doctor in the hospital?" I asked the startled nurses.

"Uh, I can try to page him for you," one of them ventured.

"Fine. I want to talk to him."

They exchanged nervous glances and had him on the phone in short order.

"This is Opal Soyk's daughter," I spit out. "We have been waiting hours in E.R. to have her treated. What the h--- is going on?"

My rare foray into profanity surprised even me. But Doctor was up to the fight. "I wasn't planning to bring her down here. She's only here because you insisted."

I was momentarily confused by the direction of the conversation. After all, I was only there because I had been called by the nursing home. What was going on? My mind raced to untangle what had happened as I asked, "Well, what are you planning to do for her?"

One worthless life...

"Nothing. I wasn't going to treat her. She's an old woman. Her life is useless, anyway. Why do you want to keep her alive?"

My soul exploded into little shards of red-hot pain as clarity came. He had planned to let her die untreated in her bed at the nursing home.

But this was not a useless old woman. This was my mother.

All my life, my mother had fought for me. Always, unconditionally, and without reservation, Mother had been my champion and protector. It was time to return the honor.

"That is not your decision to make," I retorted loudly, turning heads at the nurses' station. "Your job is to treat her."

Doctor hung up on me.

He never did bother to show up at the emergency room. But shortly afterward, she was admitted to the hospital. With proper treatment, Mother recovered from her illness and lived some time longer before dying peacefully at the nursing home with her family in attendance.

Who Is the Lord of Life and Death?

In the months leading up to her strokes, Mother knew something awful was happening in her body. She kept it mostly secret, but looking back, I realized that she was preparing us for the inevitable. One day she told me that if anything happened to her, she wanted every chance at life. She also said, "I changed your diapers; you can change mine."

I remembered those words after her strokes and was thankful to know her wishes. But I often agonized as I watched her body slowly wither away. I knew, though, that if we hastened her death, it would not be her choice, but ours. That would be neglect. Or worse.

In the long nights during those five years, I reminded God that she had taken Him to be Lord of her life. I asked Him to be Lord of her death.

The last night the nursing home called us, she had fallen into a coma after not responding to medication for a new infection. Her body showed the obvious signs of shutting down. We gathered around her bed, sang all her favorite hymns, and cheered her on. We read Scriptures to her, prayed quietly, and loved her into God's presence.

My mother taught me how to live. She taught me how to die. And she taught me that God is the Lord of both.

Incomparable

"But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves." 2 Corinthians 4:7

               God can use broken instruments to make incomparable music.

                                                      - Joni Eareckson Tada 

In A Place of Healing, quadriplegic artist and disability advocate Joni Eareckson Tada tells a story about famed violinist Yitzhak Perlman.
Disabled at a young age by polio, Perlman made a point of coming onstage by himself with the use of crutches and braces. 

At a concert in 1995, he made his usual painful entrance onto the stage. During his performance, a string broke on his violin. 

An awkward silence fell over the hall. Perlman could not simply walk off the stage for a few moments and replace the string. He stopped, closed his eyes, and thought for a moment. Then he motioned for the conductor to begin again. 

The virtuoso played the entire piece minus one string. He masterfully rewrote the score as he went, innovating with the strings to coax new sounds from his disabled violin. 

The performance was incredible. When it ended, the awestruck audience erupted into thunderous applause. 

Perlman answered their appreciation with these words: "You know, sometimes it is the artist's task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left." 

My son Kevin dreamed of being a musician from an early age. At age thirteen, he had his own electric guitar. By nineteen, he played on the church worship team and was saving money to attend a discipleship training school that specialized in music ministry. He was playing guitar for a youth ministry outreach in Canada when he broke his neck. 

His fight for life was hard and long. As he recuperated from his injury, we began to realize the depth of the loss he had suffered. Initially paralyzed from the neck down, he eventually regained some feeling and movement in all parts of his body. 

But it wasn't enough for a normal life. Today he can do some things for himself but remains mostly disabled. The tracheostomy tube in his throat makes it hard for him to speak loud enough to be heard. 

Gone forever is his ability to sing and to play an instrument for God. I grieved especially hard over that loss. Many times I questioned God's decision to let that happen. 

I understand better now. 

Each day Kevin awakens to serve his God in trust and surrender. He has created a popular website featuring Christian music that probably reaches more people with the gospel than he would have ever reached with his guitar. 

It's a new score - a powerful performance. Sweet music, indeed. 

Do you ever feel you are broken beyond repair? Has life beaten you up, thrown you down, and threatened to steal the song God put in your heart? 

It's no problem for God. He's a creative genius. He knows exactly how to take what's left of our lives and use them to display His incomparable song of grace. 

In fact, the greatness of His power is magnified when played out on broken instruments. There's no danger someone will think we made the music ourselves, no doubt the Master is in the hall. 

All He asks is that we offer ourselves and prepare to be awestruck. The song of praise we hear will be incomparable. 

Master, I hear the music you play through our broken lives. 

There is no doubt who is in the hall. 

The grace, beauty, and power You display are incomparable. 

Once again, I offer my life to you. Amen.

Excerpted from Out from the Shadows: 31 Devotions for the Weary Caregiver by Pam Thorson. 

God's Rest for Uncertain Days

The recent COVID-19 pandemic has now blown America from complacency into full-blown panic. At special risk are senior citizens and those with medical conditions that compromise their immunity.

Like many caregiving families, we have struggled to keep ourselves and loved ones safe without giving in to the fear. Our household consists of a vulnerable adult who is being cared for by two at-risk seniors. We recognized the risks early on and quickly ensured that we were as ready as possible for a serious outbreak of this virus.

No, we didn't hoard toilet paper.

Yes, we bought the proper medical supplies and household needs for a few weeks of possible isolation. We already had most of this in place before the crisis hit.

At this time, we are instituting our own policy of social isolation that we will evaluate on a week-by-week basis until the course of the virus appears to be waning. We use stringent infection control measures in our home. We've done all we can for now.

Still, the uncertainty has cast a pall upon our home as the seriousness of this pandemic is commanding the airwaves. We worry about our loved ones around the country. Our beloved granddaughter is facing the very real possibility of having to postpone her much-anticipated wedding. From serious illness to financial strain to personal loss, people are experiencing trials on many levels.

In the midst of anxiety, there is one place we can run.

When I read this Psalm, the image that comes to my mind is that of a hen sheltering her chicks under her wings. I remember fondly the little banty hens we had when I was growing up. The chicks always knew to run to their mamas if they were threatened. The hens spread their wings over their babies and pecked anyone who got near. There was something so comforting in watching the little ones sleeping under their mothers' wings.

In some Bible versions, the word abide in verse one is translated as "rest." When trouble descends upon us, we can rest in God's shelter. It's supposed to be the place we live. God is strong and mighty and a loving Father. He is our deliverer and the keeper of our souls.

So as we live out a long, hard winter, we can do two things:
Exercise infection control  
Live in rest.


PSALM 91

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.

2 I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress,
My God, in whom I trust!”

3 For it is He who delivers you from the snare of the trapper
And from the deadly pestilence.

4 He will cover you with His pinions,
And under His wings you may seek refuge;
His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark.

5 You will not be afraid of the terror by night,
Or of the arrow that flies by day;

6 Of the pestilence that stalks in darkness,
Or of the destruction that lays waste at noon.

7 A thousand may fall at your side
And ten thousand at your right hand,
But it shall not approach you.

8 You will only look on with your eyes
And see the recompense of the wicked.

9 For you have made the Lord, my refuge,
Even the Most High, your dwelling place.

10 No evil will befall you,
Nor will any plague come near your [c]tent.

11 For He will give His angels charge concerning you,
To guard you in all your ways.

12 They will bear you up in their hands,
That you do not strike your foot against a stone.

13 You will tread upon the lion and cobra,
The young lion and the serpent you will trample down.

14 “Because he has loved Me, therefore I will deliver him;
I will set him securely on high, because he has known My name.

15 “He will call upon Me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble;

I will rescue him and honor him.

16 “With a long life I will satisfy him
And let him see My salvation.”

https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+91&version=NASB

Three Things People Say that Make a Caregiver Cringe

What do I need? Where do I start?

During our twenty-one years of dealing with disability, people have taken really good care of our family. So I have hesitated to share today's post, thinking that it may make us appear ungrateful.

Believe me, we appreciate every good thought, prayer, and action taken on our behalf over the years. We are truly thankful for the caring people who surround us.

It is written, however, not to complain but to encourage others who might want to help their caregiver friends but don't know how to reach out effectively. Here's a few ideas of what caregivers need -and don't need- to hear from their concerned friends and loved ones. I've included some ideas that my friends have concocted for us that saved our sanity and made us feel truly loved.

1. "Let me know if there's anything you need."

On any given day, I pretty much need everything: rest, hope, money, respite, the weeds pulled in my flower garden. But I'm not likely to call you anytime soon. Our situation has taken so much of our dignity over the years, I just can't ask anyone for more. It's hard to always be the ones in need, so I will probably politely thank you and leave it at that.

I also know that most of our friends and family would gladly help out if they knew what to do. A great way to really assist your caregiver friend is to not wait for that phone call.

Just do something.

Don't worry if it's the right thing. They'll love you for trying, even if it's not really what they needed. Instead of a vague offer of help, pick out something specific and do it. For example, you can ask, "What is your favorite pizza and would Thursday night be a good time to drop it off for you? Or, "I'm thinking of weed eating a few weeds this weekend. Could you use an hour of weed whacking around your yard, too?" Drop off a deli tray or a plate of brownies. Stick a prepaid card in the mail for a meal at a restaurant that does takeout or curbside pickup.

Once when our son was being released from the hospital after suffering a particularly bad infection, a friend dropped off a gallon of milk, toilet paper, and a take-and-bake pizza. She didn't stay long, because she knew we were exhausted. And the pizza could be refrigerated until we were ready to cook it. What an awesome and thoughtful thing to do.

Recently, I had out-patient surgery. Two of my dear friends, who know that I can't ask for help, took charge. Because my husband had to keep up the caregiving at home, one friend drove me to the hospital, waited while I had the procedure, and drove me home. She also brought food for the frig. After I returned home, another friend babysat me for the afternoon while I rested. She brought food, too. I can't begin to tell you how much these two did to ease my recovery and restore my soul.

Helping out a caregiver doesn't have to be expensive, involved, or time-consuming. Just the fact that you took the time to reach out is healing to a family scoured out by overwork and sorrow. Sometimes that can be achieved by simply sending a card in the mail to let them know you're thinking of them or a Facebook message of encouragement.

2. "Be sure to take care of yourself."

Um, okay. I'm trying. But who will do my job for me while I get that pedicure?

Believe me, caregivers know that they need to take care of themselves. But most day, theys are too busy just keeping their heads above water as they are swept down Urgent River. It's like telling a drowning person to take time for himself. He can't do that. He's busy drowning. What he needs is to be pulled to safety, not a haircut.

A great alternative would be, once again, to put feet to your concern. See number one for ideas. Anything you can do to relieve some of the caregivers' burdens can give them a chance to find time for themselves.

You can also ensure that a caregiver is pampered by pampering her yourself. Soon after our disabled son returned home after his accident, a group of my friends threw me a shower at a friend's house. We ate together, they washed my feet, and they showered me with gifts. After all the weeks of standing beside our son as he fought for his life, I had almost forgotten how to do anything but exist in pain. The gift of an afternoon with my precious friends reminded me how wonderful it is to be alive.

3. "You should get out more"

This one is right up there with the previous comment. Obviously, if we could get out more, we would. Caregivers are not only too busy, they are often too tired to keep up much of a social life. This is part of the sacrifice they willingly make to serve their loved one. They understand what they are giving up, and they are willing to do it, which may seem incomprehensible to others.

Caregiving often leads to a sense of isolation and loneliness. Instead of shaming them for not being able to make the extra effort to socialize, consider how you can draw the circle that brings them in. 

Use some creativity if you can't figure out how to get them away for a respite. Why not give them a "shower" in their own home, so they don't have to find an alternate caregiver? You could gather a few friends, replenish their kitchen or bathroom necessities, and have some fun in the process. Or host an evening of bunco or a"movie night" in their living room. Have a barbecue in their back yard and give it a Caribbean theme. Take your life group to their place for a Bible study. Fill their house with laughter and love for a couple of hours and let them be refreshed. Just be sure to ask about any special considerations for their loved one.

Once an acquaintance who loves to cook insisted on preparing a multi-course dinner for us at our house. He even wore a chef's uniform and served us as we sat around the table and took in the wonder of it all. The meal rivaled anything we could have ordered at a restaurant.

What most people who care for others need is, really, just to be remembered on some level. 

Just the fact that you reached out and let them know they are not alone is priceless. Your expression of concern can be as individual as you are. Make it simple, or make it a multi-course dinner. What will matter is the knowledge that someone cared.

Living Thankful

"I don't know how you do it."

We hear that every so often from others when they learn about our story. People often wonder how our family has been able to survive and even conquer the challenges of caregiving for so many years. My response is always to give God the glory for His keeping power over one of the most difficult seasons of our lives. We couldn't do it without Him.

But I know that any work of any value that accomplished in this life is done in partnership with the Sovereign. He has the plan, but we are His hands and feet and voice. It's His power displayed through our effort.

Caring for others is hard work.

It's easy to get in a rut. It's really easy to feel sorry for ourselves when we're tired and feeling overwhelmed. Complaining takes a lot of emotional effort and drains us of our joy.

That's why cultivating a thankful heart is key to successful caregiving. It takes work, for sure, but it's key to breaking old thought patterns that feed a sour disposition.

I'm always amazed at the joy with which our spinal-cord-injured son faces life. Sure, he has bad days, too, but he generally faces most days with a truly grateful heart. He's suffered so much that he's just glad to be alive and well. He lives without bitterness. He accomplishes what he can each day. He looks forward to the future.

I, who can move and breathe without disability, often shuffle through the days with a grumpy attitude. That makes both me and those around me miserable. So, for this Thanksgiving, I'm sharing a few things for which I should be grateful every day of the year.

For this, and much more, I'm grateful:

*The gift of Life 
After watching my son learn to breathe again, I'll never take even the next breath for granted.

*Good health
I'm so thankful that, even in my sixties, I'm still healthy and able to care for my family.

*Freedom
We have just emerged from a brutal election cycle. But I'm still amazed how this country can come together and move on in a generally civilized manner. I thank God that the citizens who peacefully disagree with those in power aren't hauled away to jail or beheaded on a beach. And I'm deeply grateful that those who are disabled and aged aren't forced to give up their lives for the supposed greater good of society. I pray that never happens in this country.

*The faithfulness of God
He is good to me, even when I'm not good to Him or others. His grace blankets our family with peace.

*The loyalty of my family 
We were always a close family, but it took a disaster for me to see how devoted they really are to each other, and how they make sure that their relationships stay solid, even in the worst of times.

Especially in the worst of times.

*Daily miracles
We were told that if would be impossible to care for our son at home. He was told it would be impossible to go home. Every day, for two decades, we have lived the impossible!

*Answered prayers
If there's anything I've learned in the last year, it is to NEVER quit praying, unless I know God's answer is no. I've had prayers answered in the last year that I had prayed for years, seemingly without an answer.

Trust in God's timing. He does hear.

*Financial provision
We never have too much. But we always have enough. The bills are paid, and there is food on the table. There's even enough to share with others and have some fun. I'm very grateful to the federal and state agencies that work hard to help us care for our son. Sometimes, when I'm feeling irritable at some regulation or bureaucratic snafu, I try to remember just how much they have done for us. They are human, too, and are trying to help, even when the red tape seems counterproductive.

I could go on and on...

There is such an embarrassment of richness bestowed on our family that I could spend the bulk of most days in an attitude of thanksgiving. Instead of waiting for the annual Turkey Day,  my heart should be on its knees saying grace every single day. Because for us, life is good.

The House Grace Built

In one day, our lives can change forever.

Nineteen years ago this month, our son Kevin broke his neck in a fall and sustained a devastating spinal cord injury. It’s one of those bittersweet anniversaries. So much is so good in our lives. And yet, the loss is there every day.

I nearly forgot the day this year – a testament, I guess, to the fact that we’ve moved on in many ways. Kevin is still mostly disabled, and yet he still continues to make new gains when we least expect it. We’re still mostly caregivers. And yet, I love and appreciate life more than ever.

It’s strange and wonderful how we need both darkness and light to grow.

The end of last year began a new season for us as a family. A series of events have unfolded in a phenomenon that has, in rapid succession, answered several of my most desperate and long-standing prayers for my children and grandchildren. You know, those “the stone will have to roll away from the tomb” prayers, breathed so often I feared that I might irritate God with their frequency. They were the prayers carried in the night with a heavy heart and many tears before heaven. The ones that spring automatically to mind. You know.

Those prayers.

I prayed them for years without answers. 

Without warning, a door opened, followed by more.

In August of last year, our youngest daughter Grace began a new job. Prayer answered.

In November of last year, we received the news that our son Erik and daughter-in-law Rachel were expecting for the first time after being told that would probably never happen. We welcomed our first grandson into the world in May of this year. Prayer answered.

In the same month, our youngest son Daniel announced his engagement to a wonderful woman named Jenna. Prayer answered.

In June, our eldest granddaughter Rebekah graduated from homeschool and was immediately accepted into the university of her choice. Her parents, our eldest daughter Jennifer and husband Scott, sacrificed for many years and throughout many trials to educate their daughters. Rebekah is the second-generation to graduate from homeschool in our family. Prayer answered.

Their youngest daughter, Vanessa, will begin her first year of college level work as she finishes her last years in homeschool. Prayer answered.

This August, our son-in-law finally begins to see his long-standing dream of teaching become a reality. Prayer answered.

This summer, Kevin has been able, for the first time, to sit unassisted for nearly an hour at the side of his bed. This, from a man who was never supposed to move again. Ever. This, from a man who was thought – by some in the medical profession – to be better off dead. This, after nearly two decades of disability. Prayer answered.

Aaron and I continue to have the health we need to be caregivers and walk Kevin’s journey with him. Nineteen years ago, we were told it would be impossible for us to care for him at home. We live the impossible every day with him.

Prayer answered.

Living in Graceland.

A friend once told me that her daughter, who liked to visit Grace, called our place "Graceland." We chucked at the ironic designation. It seems fitting, though, because we are the house grace built. This anniversary of Kevin's accident is our reminder God is always at work. Prayer is crucial, and He is never irritated when we bring our heartaches and hopes to Him.

If you’re facing impossible odds today, if darkness is all around you, lift up your head. God still answers prayer. He loves you, and He is at work in your life.

You are the house grace built.

Crying in the Wilderness: Why Every Life Matters to Me

 

THE VOICE OF ONE CRYING IN THE WILDERNESS,

‘MAKE READY THE WAY OF THE LORD, MAKE HIS PATHS STRAIGHT.’ -Mark 1:3

Today my heart is broken.

I haven’t watched the video. But a description of its contents is enough to send me reeling. The revelation of a doctor’s extraction of the brain of an aborted fetus while its little heart still beat inside its dying body has pushed me over the edge.

Over the edge of every good reason I had to stay silent. Plunging down the chasm of my vanity, the worry over my image as an author and speaker. Past the safety net of positivism.

I spent the day grieving, just flat-out brokenhearted over what we have become as recent undercover videos of abortion practices and the sale of fetal body parts has revealed the seedy underbelly of the death industry.

Kill. Harvest. Clean up the blood. Dispose of the body.

Go to lunch and arrange another sale.

She eats, wipes her mouth, and says, “I haven’t done anything wrong!” -Proverbs 30:20 (God’s Word Translation)

Over twenty years ago, a doctor in an emergency room told me he didn’t plan to treat my disabled mother’s pneumonia because, in his words, “Her life is useless.” Eighteen years ago, a doctor in Canada wanted us to pull the plug on our paralyzed son because his life would be worthless.

I fought for my mother to live her final years in dignity. I have fought hard for my son to live well in his broken body. Along the way I’ve learned much about this fierce and glorious and fragile breath we call life.

The gift is so beautiful that I even have a hard time taking it from the critters that complicate our country living. I’d rather whisk a spider back outside than squish it. I used to designate all snakes as being either “one-rock” or “two-rock,” meaning the big ones took two rocks to kill. Recently I walked past a little bull snake lying on our rock wall as it cooled off in the sprinkler.

I left it alone. It wasn’t a good morning for anything to die.

Though I have been destined to fight for the lives of those I love, I have long resisted God’s call to speak out against the culture of death publicly, out of fear of being seen as negative or political. No more. I no longer care what anyone thinks of me.

When is silence evil?

A fierce national spirit and reluctance to actively protest the agenda of the Nazis kept the German church largely quiet against the genocide by their leaders. Few Christians had the courage of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German theologian who ultimately was killed by the Nazi regime for his participation in the resistance against Hitler.

Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act. – Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Today genocide is rampant across the globe. Some kill in the name of God. Others kill in the name of ethnic cleansing. In developed countries, we routinely kill the pre-born, the aged, the disabled in the name of compassion. Call it “women’s health” or “death with dignity.” Someone still dies, and someone profits.

Are we any better than Hitler? Or are we any better than a church that, for the most part, kept quiet as people were experimented on and gassed and skinned to make lampshades?

I have always been pro-life. But it became personal for me the day a doctor wanted to dispatch my mother because she was in the way. It became personal for me the day a doctor wanted to dispatch my son because his organs were more valuable to society than his life.

I realize my voice is a small one. It isn’t likely many will even read this post, much less feel compelled to act upon it. But I must add my voice to those rising to fight for compassion. I will fight with my last breath for the lives of those without a voice in this wilderness.

Why does every life matter to me?

It matters to God.

Will you stand with me? Will you educate yourself and speak out and support the families of the voiceless?

Photo Courtesy Erik Thorson 2023

There's Always Room for Hope

© Jules315 | Dreamstime.com - Superman Photo

I love these kinds of surprises.

"I think he can do much more than he's doing now," the physical therapist said as she helped my thirty-six-year-old son through a series of exercises. "I've seen people with a lot less do a lot more."

Music to my ears.

It's been over seventeen years since my son Kevin suffered a spinal injury in a fall. He was originally paralyzed from the neck down and was on life support for two years.

Today he can walk with help, run a computer, feed himself some foods, and feel or move nearly every part of his body.

Not paralyzed, just really tired.

His older brother Erik likes to joke that Kevin's not actually paralyzed, just "really tired."

He worked very hard during the first years to wean off the vent during his sleeping hours, move his body again in small ways, and fight off the regular complications of a high-level spinal cord injury.

Then his progress seemed to plateau. He and the family, now full-time caregivers, got too tired and discouraged to keep on fighting for a return to a normal body.

Kevin turned his attention to building a new life. We fell into a new kind of normal, accepting and enjoying the life we have. We've just been thankful to have each other and the good health to be home together.

Then a recent succession of injuries in the family forced us to reconsider transfer options. The Hoyler lift was out. Kevin can sit and walk to and from the wheelchair with help. An online search revealed that a lot has changed since Kevin was first injured in 1997. There's some awesome adaptive equipment out there.

A different kind of super man.

So Kevin has been traveling to an outpatient facility in a nearby city. There, we've been encouraged to believe again in what we've suspected all along: Kevin can do more. What amazing news for a man who was dubbed by one of his original surgeons as "another Christopher Reeve." For those of you who don't know who that is, Christopher Reeve was an actor who played the part of the comic book hero Superman in the movies. In 1995, Reeve was thrown from a horse and suffered a spinal cord injury that nearly killed him. He was totally paralyzed from the neck down and spent the rest of his life on life support. He died in 2004 from complications of his injury.

Today, Kevin is healthy and working hard on his exercises to awaken the old muscles and strengthen the ones he uses now. We're cautiously optimistic. The physical therapists want to try out the Rifton Tram in a couple of weeks and see if it will work for transfers and increased ambulation. We'll let you know how it goes.

Here's the link for the company.

http://www.rifton.com/products/lift-and-transfer-devices/rifton-tram


Don't you love surprises?

As a caregiver, have you found that it's easy to fall into a routine and forget to push for new progress with your loved one?

What adaptive equipment have you found that makes your life easier as a caregiver?

A Physician Understands

Photo courtesy Erik Thorson 2014

It's a small article by a physician, but I had only read a few lines before tears sprung to my eyes. The 2010 New York Times article is entitled "Offering Care for the Caregiver," and it hit a chord with me.

Although you can find caregiver support groups online and books on caregiving, it remains a closet profession. In the United States alone there are millions of people who care for a loved one, usually without reimbursement of any kind. As the population ages, this group will grow.

We are an unreached people group. We work long hours, give up the large and small conveniences others take for granted. It's a hard life, lived mostly unseen and forgotten by society as a whole.

We do it for love. But it does feel good when someone remembers to ask how we are. If you're a caregiver today, I pray God's blessing on your hands, feet, and heart. May He give you strength for this day, and joy in the duties ahead of you.

You are remembered. Someone does care. God sees every tear, every sacrifice, every small kindness you do for others. What you do is important, life-giving work.

I just wanted you to know.

Below is the link to the Times article. I hope it encourages you as much as it did me.


http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/22/health/21chen.html?pagewanted=1&_r=2&adxnnlx=1410969612-WbmgwZo7VmIg7oVYQ6aRJg

16 Things To Do For A Weary Caregiver

According to The National Alliance for Caregiving and AARP, there are roughly 44.4 million caregivers in America. Odds are, you either know someone who is a caregiver, you’re caring for a family member yourself, or you will care for your parents someday in the future. Caregivers are selfless individuals, who either work alone at home or depend on family members for support. Caring for another person isn’t easy – it’s a full-time occupation. These men and women are strong, devoted, and loyal members of society.

Working singularly is the norm for most caregivers, because they prefer to tackle the situation on their own. This is understandable, as they would know best on how to care for a disabled or elderly family member. However, living as a caregiver can grow into a lonely task. Most friends or neighbors either don’t understand a caregiver’s situation or are uncomfortable on how to approach them. Caregivers don’t have to feel isolated. You can help.

Caregivers are independent and often forget to take care of themselves. They may appear to brush off help, but inwardly, they need it. Everyone appreciates a little assistance here and there. They may shy away from too much attention, but encouragement and support for their occupation is greatly appreciated. Your kindness won’t go unnoticed, and you may be the refreshing break that they need from their crazy routine.

*Note* This does not apply to every caregiver.

1. Send he/she an encouraging note card that says “I was thinking of you.”

2. Offer to make them a meal for lunch or dinner and drop it off at their residence. Or if they’d prefer, provide them with food from a restaurant.

3. Keep them in your prayers.

4. If they have kids, offer to take them on a fun outing for the day. Kids in a caregiver’s home will love the attention, and the parent/parents will relish the rest.

5. Buy them a cookbook for quick and easy recipes. Caregivers are limited on time, and this would make a great gift for their daily meals.

6. Set up an event party at their home for a game or movie night.

7. Call ahead to see if you could stop by for a brief visit. Lend an ear and listen to their story.

8. Offer to swing by and be Cinderella for the day. Make dinner, wash dishes, sweep and vacuum the floor, mow the lawn, walk the dog, clean the cat litter box, and empty the garbage.

9. Gift a journal, a candle, and a devotional to the family.

10. Surprise them with a gift in the mail. A bouquet of flowers. A coffee mug and a gift card to a coffee shop. Pamper them with a basket of bath and body products.

11. Give them a hug and a smile. Let them know through your actions that you’re there for encouragement.

12. Invite them to a support group, book club, or a Bible study. Caregivers are busy and they will be grateful for the invitation. Because of their schedule, they may decline it. This, of course, depends entirely on the caregiver’s position.

13. Offer to pick up their groceries and run misc. errands.

14. Plan a birthday party at their home. Holidays are hectic. Imagine how much more hectic it is for caregivers. Ask how you can best help them during the holidays. String lights, set up a Christmas tree, bake cookies. Put together a wonderful birthday celebration for their kids.

15. Do they need a wheelchair, walker, or even a heated blanket? With their permission, start a fund for raising money to supply the needed item.

16. Share with them these helpful websites: caregiving.com, caregiver.com, caregiversupport.org, christiancaregiversupport.com, restministries.com,

Most of all, weary caregivers need your love. Be there for a caregiver, and they won’t feel alone.

What Is an "Informal Caregiver"?

Until I read Howard Gleckman's great post entitled "Informal Caregiving? Free Caregiving? Seriously?" on http://www.forbes.com, I had never heard of the term "informal caregiver." In fact, since my first baptism into caregiving with my invalid mother years ago, I have had a healthy respect for the job. In my seventeen years of caring for a disabled son, I would never have put the word caregiving together with a word as colorless as "informal."

Informal is what you wear to work on Fridays. It's sneakers and dirty jeans and hamburgers.

Informal is for when you don't care enough to give your very best.

The caregivers I know are anything but colorless. They are people capable of great devotion. Their daily lives include sacrifices that would make lesser beings tremble. They have dark days, to be sure, but the intensity of their sense of purpose and dedication can light up the room.

They feel deeply and love well. They also fall and doubt. Life for them is a roller coaster of thrills and chills.

Good, bad, and ugly, yes. But informal? Not hardly.

An Everyday Thanksgiving

 

My husband and I were talking about the world situation the other day. From recent news reports, everything appears to be going to “hell in a hand basket,” as my blessed mother would have said. I’m not sure what the phrase means, but when she used it about any particular situation, we always knew that life wasn’t going to be pretty until some serious adjustments were made.

As my husband and I talked, it occurred to us that, although things around us are bad, we really only know it’s that bad because of the news. We actually wouldn’t even know about it by looking at our lives. Sure, we have a tough situation caring for a quadriplegic son, but our lives are, in many ways (can I really be saying this?) – pleasant. We have much for which to be thankful.

This morning, I was thinking about some of our blessings in these troubled times:

• I awakened in my own bed this morning. Believe me, this is a blessing. I, as well as the rest of the family, have spent many nights wadded up in a hospital chair next to Kevin’s bed in ICU or rehab.
• God has granted us another day together. My friend Cindy, who recently lost her battle with cancer, would have been ecstatic to have had a healthy, pain-free day to enjoy with her family.
• I am in reasonably good health.
• I have a wonderful family who loves me and who is trying to serve God every day.
• We still live in a free country.
• I love my jobs: taking care of those I love and writing about the One I love.
  
• I can eat whenever I want, shower in hot water, use all the electricity I need, sleep when I feel like it, and buy the necessary things and a few extra delights like candy, pretty clothes, and home furnishings.
• My friends are awesome.

I could go on, but you get the idea. Yes, I could make a list of the things that make my life difficult, even pitiful by some people’s standards.

But Thanksgiving is such a great place to live. It really beats the alternative. Since I’ve found myself here this morning, I think I’ll just hang around awhile and enjoy the view. God seems to show up here a lot, and I’ve been looking for Him lately, anyway.

I wonder if He was waiting for me.