A Wink of Time

In a wink of time, things changed. It was so strange. We were camping in our little camping trailer at the beach, enjoying cool, clear weather. Unusual at Oregon/Washington beaches for often it is windy and rainy. But not these few days in the middle of the week. Cool down to 38 degrees at night, warming up to 65 in the daytime. We walked extra long on the beach this particular day and decided to take a nap before making dinner. And then. Just like that, things changed. From normal, we can do anything together, to we can help each other, together.

When Jim woke up from his nap, his back hurt like crazy. He couldn’t move. As far as he knew, he didn’t do anything to exacerbate his back, but there it was. Pain. Bad pain. How bad? When we went to ER at a hospital on the coast, the first question they asked was what Jim’s pain level was on a scale from one to ten. We don’t think much about pain levels unless we are experiencing pain. Here’s a description:

0=No pain

2= Mild pain, annoying

4=Nagging pain uncomfortable troublesome. Can do most activities with rest periods

6=Miserable, distressing. Unable to do some activities because of pain

8=Intense, dreadful, horrible. Unable to do most activities because of pain

10=Worst pain possible, unbearable. Unable to do any activities because of pain.

That early morning four weeks ago, we thought the pain that was about an “8” would soon be taken care of. It wasn’t. It has lingered into a month, with trips to urgent care, doctor’s offices, ER, then a week in the hospital.

This all took place after a what we thought would be a pleasant nap and then dinner.

We don’t always know what’s around the corner–or even the next instant. What’s the point of my blog today? I’m not sure, but I guess it would be that we should be prepared for change. Sometimes a gradual thing, like aging where we don’t have the same energy we had when we were young. Like the change of seasons. I’m really enjoying the colors of autumn this year.

What about my situation? Jim is slowly getting better. I’m learning how to care for someone who is in pain. It’s natural for me–I’m a mom and we want to care for our loved ones when they’re in pain. His pain is still there, better with medication. There’s hope for healing. I’m giving Jim daily infusions of antibiotics to kill an infection that is in his spine. Where did the infection come from? We don’t know. We just know it’s there. It needs to be gone and we hope this round of six weeks of daily infusions will help. Otherwise, there will be back surgery. We don’t want that, but it might happen.

This morning I read again in a devotional I don’t always read, but have been this past month. Funny, isn’t it? How when troubles come, we all have “go to’s”? It’s called Streams in the Desert and I highly recommend it. Today I was encouraged by the following Scripture verse the writer provided:

“Do you believe that I am able to do this?” Matthew 9:28.

Do I believe God can remove this infection? Most of the time, I do. But there are times in the deep night where I cry out to God to help my unbelief. He understands, by the way. So, I leave it with him. My belief is that God can heal the infection. There are also those times when I’m not sure.

I was encouraged by another verse provided in the Old Testament:

“I am the Lord, the God of all the peoples of the world. Is anything too hard for me?” Jeremiah 32:27.

I know that Jim will be healed. Either this side of Heaven or when he enters Heaven.

In the meantime, we trust. Thank you for praying, if you have been. Please keep praying. We feel the prayers, I can tell you. We are grateful.

I love the hymn and the lyrics fit our situation so well:

Simply trusting every day,
Trusting through a stormy way;
Even when my faith is small,
Trusting Jesus, that is all.

Refrain:
Trusting as the moments fly,
Trusting as the days go by;
Trusting Him whate’er befall,
Trusting Jesus, that is all.

Trusting Him while life shall last,
Trusting Him till earth be past;
Till within the jasper wall,
Trusting Jesus, that is all.

(Edgar Page, 1876)