Dan's Thoughts

Trish #32 - July 13, 2004

Today, the rehab center established a release date. Trish will leave St. Joseph's on July, 30. That will be a full two months from the day she entered the hospital This is good news for us, of course. I naturally wanted to share it with all of you. You have faithfully followed our Summer adventure from its beginning and it is good to see some sort of finish line ahead.

It is difficult to know just how these two months and the months of therapy which follow, will end up changing our lives. How can I describe just how life-altering this crisis has already been? Things that worried me the day before Trish had her aneurysm became less than nothing afterward. Things I took for granted on May 31 took center stage June,1 and I can't imagine returning to life as it was.

In telling the story of how Saul of Tarsus was converted, St. Luke writes that as the soon-to-be apostle to the Gentiles entered the house of Ananias and received the laying on of hands,"immediately there fell as it were scales from his eyes." Most of us have experienced the blurry of vision that comes from having our eyes covered with "scales." Things like houses and lands, fortune and fame tend to fill our minds through much of our life. For some people perhaps, the scales are as they have been for me, a hunger for appreciation and respect. Whatever kinds of scales we have over our eyes, they keep us from seeing what is really valuable and important in life. So we spend a lot of time building our hopes and dreams brick by brick in the recesses of our own minds. Then we do all we can by force of will to push our mental concoction out into the material world. Naturally, we want everyone to see our creation. We also want to erect a monument to outlast us, to mark the spot where we once lived and loved. Such dreams, though often noble and inspiriting, can become scales that blind us to the dearest and best in our lives.

I have been in the process of getting "de-scaled!"

Some of you have asked how Trish's visit to church went this past Sunday. She was overjoyed. She soaked up the people's love. She sang as loud as her still weak voice would allow. Afterward, we went home and ate dinner with our children. (Food from Supper Dragon, just like she wanted.) Then we went to our bedroom and lay down on our own bed. We held each other and giggled like school children having a "sleep-over." It was very difficult this time to take her back to the hospital for the night.

Her body and brain still require a lot of sleep. She still needs a lot of help. But she is alive. And, thanks be to God, she is herself.
Having that, we now have everything.

We were talking last night about what we want to do with the rest of life. We realized that we want each other, we want our family and we want to serve God and his people. Where, how, how much, how big and how visible the place and circumstances in which this takes place is suddenly of little concern. We are wide open to the will of God right now.

I am not ready to be grateful for this trial. It has shaken me and my family to our roots. I can say that even though it has been scary, it has also been precious. Saul got knocked off his horse and I imagine it was not that pleasant of an experience. Nonetheless, it prepared him to say later in life, "I have counted it all dung that I might obtain Christ."Most of what I have wanted has not been exactly dung. Most of it has been good stuff. Tonight though, my eyes are clear even of some of that good stuff.

I intend to love Trish and to honor my time with her above all other earthly responsibilities. Out of our love for one another, I intend to share love for the people whom God puts into our lives for ministry and relationship. I do not intend ever to worry again about people's opinions. Though I will try to be financially responsible, I do not plan to worry about money.

Last Sunday, I was extremely happy as I just lay on the bed beside Trish, having just finished a meal with my children and grandchildren. Just a few weeks ago, I would have been anxious about "making the most of my time." I would have been so anxious to do that that I would have wasted my time on lesser things. This past Sunday, I enjoyed my first Sabbath in years.

Life looks bright without the scales.

Dan