It’s All in the Timing
A friend asked about my attitude toward God. Was I angry? Did I sense God’s presence in my current situation? Did I even believe anymore?”It’s difficult,” I admitted. “Frustrating. Perplexing even. Most of the time I just feel tired.”
My friend was quiet.
“I pray, you know, but all I ever seem to get is silence. A whole lot of silence. Still, every now and then … ”
I proceeded to tell the following story.
The kids were out of town, so LeAnn and I took off to one of our favorite restaurants for some pizza and beverages. You know, one of those places the kids will never choose when we take them out to eat with us.
Ahh, date night out on the town. We could relax and unwind from what had been a stressful week filled with extremely bad medical news.
But things didn’t turn out that way. We couldn’t relax. We had important business to discuss. Big decisions loomed on the horizon, decisions regarding health and finances and preparing for the worst. How would LeAnn, a teacher, manage without my income? What would she do about the mortgage and upcoming college expenses? How would social security and life insurance factor in?
Yikes!
One thing they don’t tell you about terminal illness is how many huge decisions you must make every day. I’m talking enormously big and excruciatingly tough decisions, all the time. And quite often those decisions lead to disagreements. With terminal illness, two lives that once became one, begin to separate. Inevitable conflicts of interest begin to emerge.
As the pizza arrived, LeAnn and I found ourselves arguing about such issues. She was scared. I was scared. And each of us had our own point-of-view about what we should do about it. (By the way, during normal times, we hardly ever argue. But these were not normal times.)
The argument eventually progressed to the point that we stopped talking altogether. We were like two senior citizens sitting across from each other at dinner, never saying a word.
“What, you’re not going to talk to me now?” I asked with an edge in my voice.
“Sure, I’ll talk,” LeAnn said sarcastically. “What do you want to talk about? Just let me know the subject and we’ll talk.”
“I know,” I replied. “Let’s talk about getting the heck out of here!” (Except I didn’t say heck.)
Minutes later we were in the car heading home. Neither of us spoke a word during the drive. And upon arriving, we went our separate ways. LeAnn took off to Target to get a gift for a friend. I went to bed to read.
While she was gone, my mood began to soften. I must be bigger than this, I thought. My wife is in a terrible predicament and I’m not helping her by getting angry.
Later, when she got home, I apologized. But it was too little, too late.
“It’s okay, Jim.” she said. “I’m not even sure whose fault it was. It could have been me. But I do know we had a night together and threw it away. And we’re never going to get it back.”
She was right, of course. No apology would give us back that night. Regret set in, big time, followed by frustration and sadness.
I felt alone. Very, very alone.
Just then the phone rang.
It was the mother of one of my wife’s students. She’d never called LeAnn at home before, but felt compelled to call that evening. For you see, she’d heard I was sick and that we had just returned from Houston with bad news.
She proceeded to tell LeAnn how much her kids loved her. “You’re their favorite,” she said. In fact one of her kids had said that LeAnn is “always happy, always in a good mood,” even when things were going so wrong in her life at home.
“You’ve made a big difference,” the mother said.
I watched as tears began rolling down my wife’s cheeks.
“It’s been a tough week, and a really bad day,” LeAnn said. “I really appreciate the fact that you called.” They spoke for a while longer. And as they did, LeAnn’s mood changed. She laughed on the phone. She was at ease.
Afterward, when the phone call was over, LeAnn and I looked at each other and smiled. There were no words to say, but we took each other’s hand and held on tight. Then we turned out the lights on another crazy day.
Now I’m usually pretty darn skeptical when seemingly random events like this are interpreted as having a “higher” purpose. And I’m not saying this phone call necessarily did either. For all I know, it was just a matter of human kindness breaking through. Good things happen as a result of good deeds.
But, man, the timing of that phone call.
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Jim, I believe that God is in the silence and the stillness.
I don’t think you and LeAnn will ever know what your friendship meant to me when my dad passes away. I HATE the ccircumstances that you and your family are in and my soul and heart ache for LeAnn and Madison and Ford but it breaks my heart that I knew you at a time when we all met together to learn of him, pray to him and all of that in such happy times together beginning our married lives together. I pray and hope you get some of that joy back during these dreadful times as well. WE LOVE YOU AS MUCH AS WE CAN LOVE FROM AFAR. SALLY