Good Friday

March 27

March 30, 2018

Kayley Hospital Watch

Good Friday/Baby Girl
It always seemed weird to me to call “Good Friday”-Good. Yes, I theologically know why, I can preach it in my sleep.
It is “good” because it marks the day Jesus died for MY sins and debts. But still… I’ve never felt comfortable calling it good… especially today.
It’s 1:51 AM. 2 hours into this Christian holiday.
My courageous and valiant wife lies sleeping on a hospital sofa (for her 12th night in a row) just 3 feet away. Not one single day has she gotten more than 3 hours of rest.
My daughter, under morphine’s delusional sway, 12 inches from my chair, is halfway asleep making intermittent moans. I watch her, I listen to her breath and wonder… pray… and yes I worry. Although my maker has forbidden worry -I still seem weak…unable.
I have discovered my faith is much less than I pridefully believed it was. BehInd the curtains of suffering I have been exposed to a side of myself that I dislike. I am not near the (strong) man I thought I was.
Pain… suffering… have proven to be a mirror that exposes reflections I wish to turn away from.

Behind me in this room of darkness I watch a monitor with Vegas like colors.
It beeps.
It shows numbers.
It has squiggly lines.
It’s colors are shades of common colors but different.
The kind only women can name/recognize or that bridesmaids often wear.
Maybe fuchsia, aquamarine, teal or something of the sort.
I constantly check this screen for some type of assurance, comfort or maybe warning.
I don’t know why I do so because I understand so little of what it tells me. Nonetheless, it makes me feel better so my head constantly swivels. Back to Kayley, forth to monitor.
Back/ forth /back/ forth.

Hours ago we were crushed to hear that X-rays revealed liquid on Kayley’s lungs. Experts told us the needed to do another “procedure” on our only daughter. One that required a incision on her back so they could push a tube to her lungs to extract the unwelcome fluid.
Really?
Hasn’t she endured enough already?
(In her sleep, just this second, she mumbled unintelligible words)
When I found out what had to be done I masked my hurt.
Gotta be strong for the girls.
The masquerade stopped 15 minutes later (away from Missy and Kayley) when a close friend called to check in. I wept at childlike levels.

(I stepped away from my solace of writing for the last 60 minutes.
Or was it 60 years?
Like the 4th of July, the monitors alarms and lights sent flares into our “Good Friday”. Missy woke up, we surrounded her bed, we prayed and whispered verses. Her Temperature reading was 103.7 and she was just administered another dose of morphine to steal the pain from the tube stuck in her back. She whispers, “My mind is thinking weird things”. Another tsunami has come and gone…)

Some hours faith wins.
In others I feel like the hounds of hell have surrounded us.

Faith is all I have left.
To be totally honest, In some hours faith itself has left.

Yet I remind myself that 2000 years ago, on a Good Friday, my savior and friend faced His own misery.
It was unfair.
Unjust.
Unimaginable.
Undeserved.
He did so because He loved Kayley. This thought brings a rare smile to my face.

13 days in, I have no answers, the docs have no answers, my friends have no answers nor do the thousands across the world praying.
But He does.
Therefore I will wait; By His help I will trust that no matter what this day holds that it will be a “GOOD FRIDAY”.
It will be good because He is good.

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