When Enough Is Enough

45.  When Enough Is Enough

 

It is not death, but dying, which is terrible.[310]

 

Somebody should tell us, right at the start of our lives, that we are dying.

Then we might live life to the limit, every minute of every day.  Do it!  I say,

Whatever you want to do, do it now![311]

 

I don't worry about getting old.  I'm old already.

Only young people worry about getting old.  I don't believe in dying.  It's been done.  I'm working on a new exit.  Besides, I can't die now - I'm booked.[312]

 

Life and living was becoming much more difficult, and questions were pouring out of my heart … but not my mouth.  I was keeping my concerns, my doubts, my observations, and my prayers very close to my vest.  Not many people knew I was laboring under the load I was carrying.

Edward, my father-in-law – he knew.  We talked.  One day I asked him to take a short ride with me.  We both wanted to get out of the house and get some fresh air, but I had something on my heart that had to come out, and only Edward could be my sounding board.  About two miles from my home I pulled over onto the gravel shoulder of one of Chesterfield County’s more rural roads.  I couldn’t see to drive.  I couldn’t contain my emotions.  With tears and a shaky voice I asked him, “Dad … if Vicki dies … am I still considered ‘in the family’?  How will that work?  Am I still your son-in-law?”

He knew where I was going, but Ed surprised me when he, too, misted up.  “Nothing changes, Lowell.  You’re still my son.  In fact, if that happens we going to need each other.  And, besides that, I love you.”

My father, Claude, and I were always very loving towards each other, and no one on Earth could have been the Dad he was, but Edward Winstead was unlike any other man I knew.  He had accepted me and loved me as the husband and best friend of his daughter – and for a dad, that’s something quite wonderful and sacrificial.  Ed had given up his unique position in Vicki’s life thirty years before, to me.  He didn’t just make room for me, he gave me the whole room because he knew I loved her..  He allowed us to carve out a relationship as man and wife with no interference.  We always knew he was enthusiastically supportive of our relationship.

If I could bottle what was in Ed’s heart – what it takes to be a great father-in-law – and sell it or give it away, the world would work much better than it does. 

I can’t thank God enough for Edward Winstead because he was with me, helping me.

Dying sucks.  It’s unbelievably tough on the person that’s dying, but it’s tough on families and friends, too. 

I had Ed and my family and friends to help me make it. 

Some people don’t.

I also had God to run to.  Some people choose not to, but who better to pour out our hearts to, and ask our questions.

November 3, 2003, 11:00 AM (Lowell’s Journal)

I just got a … feeling this morning that Vicki will soon be going to the hospital, never to return.

Between me and You, Lord, I’m not sure this is coming from You … or it’s just my discouraged heart speaking.

2 Cor. 5:1-10 NIV

1 Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands.  2 Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, 3 because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked.  4 For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.  5 Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.

    6 Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord.  7 We live by faith, not by sight.  8 We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord.  9 So we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it.  10 For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each one may receive what is due him for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad.

Vicki’s body is being “destroyed” by this cancer, and unless You intervene soon, what happens to others is going to happen to her – she’s going to die.

Why did You give me these verses??  Are you preparing me for Vicki’s home going?  Is her death inevitable?  Is healing out this time around?

I’ve listened to her groaning, but she never groans for heaven, just for her healing.  She doesn’t want to be clothed with a new body in heaven – she wants another new body for more time here on earth.  Oh, God!!  Please heal Vicki.  Heal her broken and decimated body.  Speak into her body, and make it perfectly well, whole, and strong.  Take away this horrible pain!  She’s so “burdened,” just like Paul said, but not because she wants to go to heaven, but because her body has become like an anchor.  She’s weighed down by her mortal body.  She’s sinking under its weight.

Vicki knows that to be in her mortal body, she’s away from You.  But the idea of being away from Brandon, Chris, Mom and Dad, Wendy, Gary (especially now that the family seems to together when it comes to the Spirit) and yes, me, bothers her more than the [wonderful] prospect of her being face-to-face with You.  Jesus, she absolutely loves You.  You know that, of course.  She’s so in love with You, and I know you’re not offended that she doesn’t want to see You as much as she wants to be on earth with us, but You understand, don’t You!  This world is all she knows.  It’s all we know.  It’s the familiar and the safe place.  Heaven and death are still so mysterious to her and to me.  She does not have a death wish!  She has a life wish!!  She wants to live.

I’m confident she’s not the least bit nervous about standing before “the judgment seat of Christ” and giving an account of her life … but … maybe she is.  Maybe she’s not as confident as she should be.  But I can’t go to her and say, “Vicki, don’t worry about dying.  Heaven is great.  And you’re going to be rewarded.  And you’ll have a new body, and no more pain or cancer.”  I can’t say that!!  Because I haven’t been there myself!  I’m just going on what I know from Your Word.

It’s true, isn’t it?  That heaven exists, I mean.

And if she dies … and it’s looking that way … she wants me to “raise her from the dead!”  Good grief.  I told her that she shouldn’t have put that on ME … just me!!  But she didn’t back down.  She’s not aware of how I’m feeling.  There’s no telling her.  Everything I want to say sounds like “Goodbye.”  I want to hold her and kiss her and say, “You can go home now.  The pain will be over.  Your pain and mine.”

I’m in pain, Lord!!  I’m sick of her pain.  I’m sick of the constant battle.  For her sake and mine, I want it all to be over.  Either healed … or heaven.

Maybe she’s not ready to go because she came so close to dying the last time, and then she was pulled away from the cliff. Maybe she thought she’d never get sick again because she was healed two years ago.  Maybe she thought that because she was healed, she’d not taste death until You came back to the Earth to rescue Your Bride.

I don’t know what she’s thinking because she won’t talk to me now about any of this … these possibilities.

Is what we’re doing right now, Lord, faith or fear?  Do we/Does she think that if we talk about death and dying that that will signal You that we don’t believe You for a healing, and that You have to let her die because she gave up?  Why are we so afraid that what we SAY (even though we’re THINKING IT) backs You into a corner, ties Your powerful hands, and makes it impossible for You to do what You ultimately want to do??

Are we that powerful?  Do we have control, or do You?  Are You God, or are WE little gods … with power over of the Big God?  Are the Mormons right, that we become like You when we get born again?  Are the New Agers right, and we are, after all, capable of becoming YOU?

I know we aren’t that powerful, and we don’t have control because the World would be even more chaotic!   Thank You, God and You, Lord Jesus, and You, Holy Spirit … that YOU are God and we are not.

Jesus, You told us that You were “preparing a place” for all of us.  Does Vicki believe that?  Or are You going to snatch her from the jaws of death again? 

You better do it soon.

Is she right … that You might be planning to let her die temporarily so that the world will know how loving and powerful You are as You raise her from the dead?  Is this Your intent?  If it is, I want to see it happen … and I’d love for it to be ALL about You.  I don’t want to become the focus by having a hand in the miracle.  You know my heart.

I wish I could share my heart, and my pain and my doubts with her.

Thank you for my time with Edward.  I love him so much.  Thank you for our relationship, and the reassuring words he shared with me.  Thank You for Peggy, too.  I couldn’t ask for a more empathetic mother-in-law.

And dear God, thank you so much for Kathy [Goodman, my sister].  Even though she’s in torment, she’s so willing to bless me and Vic with her care and help and expertise.  She’s like an angel.  Her wisdom is astounding … the stuff she knows about all this is amazing to me.  I never knew.  Oh, God … please draw me and her together, tight.  I don’t know what I’d be doing right now if not for her.

So many questions.  What are the answers, Lord?  I’m willing to do whatever You want me to do, and say whatever You want me to say.  Just give me strength.  I’m so weak right now.

 

God more than understands our dilemma.  He knows we don’t know what’s on the other side of dying.  Jesus can say that He has gone where we must go – not because He needed to be schooled or informed, but because He knows we long to relate to Him in every way.  That is why I’ve felt (not always, but for most of my life) that I could ask questions, and question God’s ways.  I’ve tried to keep my God-questions reverent.  Totally forthright.  I’ve never seen any reason to hold back saying out loud what He already knows is in my heart.  I’ve learned that asking God questions is usually a better idea than asking my fellowman, i.e., those who share my flesh, limitations, and nature.

Albert Einstein (1879-1955) said, “The important thing is not to stop questioning.  Curiosity has its own reason for existing.  One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality.  It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day.  Never lose a holy curiosity.”

Keeping our questions holy is important to the process.

Vicki’s last few days at home were precious.  Whenever anyone called to ask if they could come by she would rarely say, “no,” but try her best to accommodate them.  Without saying so, she “knew” people felt it was important to see and spend time with her.

One such visitor was Jason Stickles, the young man who not only served as my youth pastor but who had quickly become one of my dearest friends.  Whenever and however he could Jason covered for me.  He allowed me to spend my days caring for and being with Vicki.

For some reason the day Jason came by to speak to Vicki she was upstairs, in our bedroom, resting.  After I ushered him into the room I complained that I had some things to do and I left the two of them alone.  Later on Vicki told me she had shared an observation with Jason that had made an impression on him, and she wanted to share it with me as well.

“Lowell,” she said, “the pain I’m experiencing is some of the most intense to date.  It’s hard for me to focus on anything but the soreness and the hurting.  It’s getting harder and harder for me to overcome it or control it with medication, and that is very frustrating to me because I know what that means.  I’ll have to be going to the hospital in order to control it.

“But this morning, as I was praying and asking God to give me some relief, I started daydreaming about something … and as I did, the pain didn’t seem so bad.  I began to imagine being in a prison cell in China, put there because of my faith in Jesus.  In my dream I was laid out on a damp concrete floor.  The dampness was coming from mold, urine, stagnant water … and my own blood.  I was handcuffed, and put in such a difficult position that I couldn’t stand or sit up.  It was very difficult to move at all.  I felt like I had numerous broken bones.  The cell was burning hot in the summer and freezing cold in the winter.  My clothes were just rags.  Not only had I been beaten, but I had been raped.  I had no books.  I had no visitors.  All I had was God.”

As she told me the story, I was transported there with her.

Vicki moved slightly in the bed and winced.  She continued, “I think God was showing me that while He loved me very much, and hated my pain, there were people … His children … all over the world … suffering.  Some more than me.  I could see a Christian woman in Africa holding her starving child and singing worship songs to God.  I saw a Christian soldier, a young man in the U. S. Army,  burned head to toe, crying out to God in his heart, ‘Let me die, let me die,’ but also sharing his faith with the dying men around him.

“Lowell … I felt so small.  So ungrateful.  Here I am, in Midlothian, Virginia, in a beautiful home, surrounded by my family and friends.  I have air conditioning in the summer and heat in the winter.  I have plenty to eat, and beautiful clothes to wear.  My doctors are some of the best in the world.  I have access to pain medications and some of the finest care a woman can have.

“I told God this morning, ‘Thank You for showing me all that.  Thank You for the perspective.  Thank you for all that I have – my family, my friends, my home.  Thank You for the Bible.  Thank You, Lord, for my CD player and my music.”

She had shared a version of the dream with Jason just an hour or so before, but I could tell that Vicki was still seeing it, especially the faces of the people in the dream.  Vic was still resolved to stay away from the hospital for as long as possible, but from that moment on she seemed to have a reference point – that dream – that would help her stay oriented.  Much like a compass, God had placed a picture in her heart that would keep her pointing true North … up.  It was as if God put some kind of spiritual gyroscope in her mind that would serve to keep her on plain.  When the pain began to creep up on her, Vicki would dream the dream.

Vicki wrote,

November 5, 2003 – A sheet of loose-leaf notebook paper inserted into Vicki’s journal had these words written on it:

“I am all that you need.  I am the Healer you have trusted in all these months.  There is no other.  Man will always have a cure to offer, but when I say, ‘Enough!’, then it is done.  I have spoken, and now it is your move.  When I have made My move, then all will see and say, ‘It is done’ and ‘It is God.’

“I am all that you need.”

 

Just a few days later it was time for her to leave our house and home behind, and move to Henrico Doctors Hospital.  We had our going-to-the-hospital routine down pat by this time.  Besides sleeping gowns and some clothing, we packed a few books, her Bible, her journal, and a slew of pictures.  Vicki packed her favorite CD’s and a few video tapes.  I packed my blow-up camping mattress (just in case all the beds were spoken for), my pillow, several changes of clothes, my Bible, pen and paper, some books, some snacks (just in case the hospital canteen closed down before I could get there), my personal CD player and a few of my favorite music CD’s.

When we arrived at the hospital Dr. Jones’ and Dr. Welander’s nurses and personal staff greeted us.  They all helped us move our things into Vicki’s room.  They made sure she was comfortable.  Some extra strong pain meds were administered almost immediately.  Vicki was tucked into bed.  Then one of the nurses took me aside and discreetly said, “Mr. Qualls, we selected this room for Vicki because there’s a room next door that we could reserve for you.  If you need a break, or if Vicki’s family members want to spend the night, or your sister spells you so you can rest … well, we’re just saying – that room is yours to do with as you will.”

Then Vicki said something that startled me.  She was aware at that precise moment that a new reality had come calling.  Right then she knew this was to be unlike any hospital stay we had experienced to date.

“Lowell … we’re just visiting.”

Over the five-year stretch that we had been battling the cancer, Vicki and I had stayed together in her hospital room, overnight, about ninety times – give or take.  We always felt like we were just visiting.

As it turns out, that was to be the case for us this time, too.  Vicki and I were just visiting.