Thank You for Your Prayers

Let me start by thanking each and every one of you who took a moment to say a prayer for Captain Chaos since yesterday’s post.  Prayers work.  The fact that she is here with us proves that.  The visit went well.  The Captain cooperated far better than she ever has in the past, lying calmly for the EKG and the echo cardiogram.  Those two tests gave us the results that we expected.  She is doing well, and she does not have to be seen by cardiology for another year.   Our cardiologist did remind us that she will need another cardiac catheterization in the next few years.  Her last cath was in 2009, so next year will probably be the year for another test.  If not in 2012 then it will definitely be in 2013.  Neither the Boss nor I reacted negatively to that news. Not only did we know that he would remind us of the test, but since the Captain sailed through her last cath so well, we won’t be so nervous next time.  All is well.  We can look forward to another year of chaos with the three foot, ten inch tornado.

It's Good To Celebrate When Prayers Are Answered

Two weeks ago many prayers were answered when I received a phone call from my friend Mike. Mike has been seriously ill since last May when he was found unconscious on his kitchen floor. I have been praying steadily for Mike, my angry agnostic friend. For months, I sent him e-mail messages and phone messages every couple of days, simply telling him that I hoped he was well and I would continue praying for his well being. I asked him to drop me a line when he could. Mike sounded exhausted when he called. He was obviously very weak. He explained that on most days he did not have the energy to talk on the phone or write e-mails because he has been suffering from liver failure. He has spent the last year waiting for a new liver to arrive. He assured me that he received my messages and appreciated the support, although he stumbled over the word "prayers," and eventually settled on "good thoughts."   He also explained that he has had a long year to contemplate his life and went to great lengths to assure me that facing his mortality had not provided him with a “Come to Jesus” moment.  I assured him that I completely understood, but that I would continue to pray for him anyway.  If he didn’t like it, he could get well, fly to Kansas, and kick my ass. This is pretty much what our mutual friend Andy said to him, as well.

Andy called me last night. It was the first time Andy has called with good news in years. Mike received his new liver on Easter Sunday. God has a tremendous sense of irony.  Unfortunately, someone somewhere lost their life on the day before Easter. Fortunately, that person was an organ donor and their liver was a match for Mike. Mike is alert, healing well, showing no signs of rejection, and has resumed rehabilitating a left arm that was seriously damaged after being trapped underneath his body for those three days last Spring when he lay unconscious on the floor. I guarantee that the timing of his new lease on life has not been lost on Mike.

All glory and Honor belong to God.

Always.

Does Anyone Have A Spare Liver?

In May of last year I wrote about Mike, a friend from college who became ill. He had collapsed in his apartment and was not found for three days. The reason for his collapse was not clear, and I still have not learned why. His left arm was trapped underneath his body during the three days he was unconscious, resulting in severe damage to his arm that left it almost totally useless for the remainder of last year. There were many complications during his recovery, most of which appeared to center on getting his internal organs to function properly. When I last spoke with Mike he was recovering, but very weak. He made it very clear during that conversation that he did not want anyone to know how sick he was. He was angry with friends for spreading the word. He was angry for the outpouring of love and support that he received.

I have attempted to contact Mike multiple times during the past month. I’ve sent letters, e-mails, and left voice-mails. He either cannot reply or will not reply. That’s okay. I am as stubborn as he is. I will not only continue trying, but I will continue praying for him, too, something that I think my friend truly resents. There’s nothing he can do to stop that.

That’s where you come in.

This morning I learned that Michael’s liver shut down. He is on a liver transplant waiting list. Where he is on that list is beyond me. His current condition is unclear.  According to the e-mail I received, Mike sleeps a lot, maybe as much as 20 out of 24 hours in a day.

Please say a prayer for Michael. Please say a prayer for his recovery. Please say a prayer that he will come to saving faith in Christ. It is all that anyone can do right now.

When I wrote about Michael last May I wrote that I would repost an Arby’s Archives entry about Mike and a rental car agent. It was one of a three part series about attending a very difficult funeral for the son a high school friend. I never did post that entry.  I will run that story tomorrow.

The Invasion of the Girl Scouts

The relative calm of the dining room at Brookfield, Illinois’, British Home was shattered by an invasion of Girl Scouts last Friday night. The normally sedate geriatric crowd was wheeling up to the dinner tables in anticipation of a plate of sodium-free meatloaf, gravy, potatoes, and veggies, when thirty eager smock-wearing young ladies were escorted in by their mothers. They huddled in the corner of the room, opened their sheet music, and launched into a rousing rendition of Christmas carols. The girls did a nice job of singing, and those patients who could pay attention seemed to enjoy the performance.

My first instinct when confronted with such a situation is to bolt for the nearest door. A gaggle of girls under the age of ten singing their hearts out had as much promise of musical entertainment as did a couple of mating cats. We were preparing to leave for the evening. I had just spent a long day visiting with my father while the Boss and kids explored a local children’s museum. Since joining scouts as both a leader and a scout dad, I knew that we needed to support our fellow scouts, even if they were girls. Plus, sitting through their performance fulfilled a Wolf Scout requirement for Major Havoc, and it was free. So we remained to attend this impromptu holiday concert.

As our family sat around a dining table listening, I noticed a Girl Scout mom looking at my mother. They were whispering to one another behind the video camera that she was pointing at the girls. The woman’s name was Diane, and she worked with my mom at the hospital. Moments later something happened that was amazing. Diane looked over my mother’s shoulder to a young girl sitting by herself on a chair. It was Captain Chaos, and she was playing with a toy while singing along with the songs that she recognized. Every once in awhile she would look up at us and smile, and then something would grab her attention and she’d look the other way. Diane looked at the Captain, then at my mom. She looked back to the Captain and then mouthed to my mom, “Is that the Captain?”

My mom looked at Diane, smiled, and said, “Yes.”

Then Diane burst into tears.

Five years ago, when the Captain was in the hospital for her heart defect, people all over the world were praying for her. Diane was one of those people. She received regular updates on the Captain’s condition through my mom, and went home each night and prayed for our daughter. Apparently, she never stopped. Not only has she been praying for the Captain all of this time, but she had her young daughter praying for the Captain, too. Then one night, while escorting her daughter and her daughter’s girl scout troop through a nursing home to sing Christmas carols for the residents of the facility, she looked across the room at a bright, happy, energetic (and really cute) young girl and saw the very person for whom she had been praying.

Sometimes, moments like that bring tears.

After the concert was finished and the girls moved on, Diane remained behind with her daughter for pictures with the Captain. Of course, my daughter had absolutely no idea why they were so interested in her. The Boss is convinced that one day Captain Chaos will look at us and ask, “Why do people know me everywhere we go?” I took the opportunity to thank Diane. Long ago, I discovered that simple words are the most effective in expressing the inexpressible. The most dynamic words in the English language fail to capture the depths of my gratitude for their selfless act of praying for a sick girl (an unknown granddaughter of a co-worker) for half a decade. So, I simply told her, “Thank you for all of the prayers you offered for Captain Chaos.” That brought more tears. In my heart, I hoped that God blesses Diane and her family ten times over for each and every prayer they offered for my daughter.

God answers prayers. It took Diane five years to see the result of her prayers, and it came at the most unexpected moment, but God showed her the that He is listening.

He is listening to you, too.