CONTENTS
JUST VISITING
Last week most of our readers received two copies. We are at a loss to understand why since we only sent the message out one time. The problem may stem from software that is being asked to send our newsletter to a larger list than its designers anticipated. We are trying to fix this problem or find other alternatives. Our newsletter ministry is a labor of love. It carries no subscription charge. Our resources are obviously limited and our success has exceeded our wildest imaginations. We ask that you be patient with us as we search for more efficient ways of mailing the newsletter.
This week we are privileged to have a guest article from Tom Azar, a military chaplain. He addresses a subject that we have never covered in our newsletter - crib deaths. We have known people who have lived through this nightmare. It's one of the worst family crisis situations that people can experience. We appreciate Tom's contribution on the subject.
Norman
PLUMBING PROBLEMS
by Norman Bales
Is it worth the time, energy, pain and frustration to work at overcoming serious marriage problems? Some people don't think so. They settle for cutting their losses, protecting their egos and devising damage control plans. I'm one of those guys who believes the Creator intended marriage to last throughout a lifetime. Sacrifice is never easy, but if both couples are willing to persist and pay the price that rebuilding requires, salvaging an impaired relationship can be one of the most satisfying experiences in life.
My experiences in household maintenance have served to deepen my resolve to work persistently through relationship difficulties. There are two things in the house that I don't understand very well. One is electricity and the other is plumbing. I'd rather deal with plumbing problems because it's harder to kill yourself if you make a plumbing mistake. You'd have to spring a rather sizeable leak to accumulate enough water to drown yourself.
Household emergencies rarely surface on my good days. I dread coming home from work after a horrible day only to discover the sickening sight of water oozing out beneath the cabinet doors underneath the sink.
If you're like me, your first reaction is denial. I find myself thinking, "That's not really water. In reality, it's a figment of my imagination. It's like UFO's, centaurs and unicorns. A leaking water pipe is a myth. I engage all the right brained creativity I can muster, but no matter how hard I try, I can't convince myself that leaky drains don't exist. They're as real as the dirt behind a young boy's ears.
My first thought is to call the plumber. I'm neither a plumber nor the son of a plumber, so maybe it's best to turn this problem over to a professional. On the other hand, the sink is full of dirty dishes; all our clothes are waiting to be washed and it's 9 o'clock in the evening. If I were dealing with a medical problem, I would just take a couple of aspirins and call the doctor in the morning, but even my handy, do-it-yourself-fix-it book doesn't suggest that alternative for leaking drains.
So I end up chasing down the plumbing tools and after many false starts and two trips to Walmart for the right parts, I get the leak fixed. A strange thing happens when I run water full force through the drain and feel only dry pipe when I check for leaks. Suddenly, I'm no longer tired. I'm not ready to apply for a plumber's license, but I do feel a certain sense of achievement.
This is an inspirational essay. It's not really about plumbing. It's about marriage. Sometimes the burdens, trials and disappointment we face in marriage are so frustrating, we get discouraged. When our best efforts to remedy the hurt fall short of fulfillment, we feel an energy drain. Maybe we would prefer to take a flight from reality and pretend the problem doesn't exist. Perhaps we feel tempted to throw up our hands in disgust. We may even look up a lawyer's number and contemplate asking him to begin divorce proceedings. Many people give up too soon. They cheat themselves and they never experience the exhilaration, the rush of adrenaline, the feeling of accomplishment that comes when you've been successful in overcoming a major relationship hurdle. In Galatians 6:9, the apostle Paul wrote, "Let us not be weary in well doing, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."
"A CHILD LOST TO SIDS"
by Thomas P Azar
(c) copyright Thomas P Azar
The snowfall was the highest in two decades. The mercury was below zero for over three weeks. Christmas was beautiful but unbearable. I was helping a doctor push his car out of a snow embankment when my beeper went off. I called the emergency room and was told every young child had just been rushed into acute care clinic by a hysterical baby-sitter. I arrived at the hospital and began my wait for the parents who had to drive through one of the severest snowstorms. The emergency room staff was trying to revive the child. I quickly gathered essential information while watching for the parents to arrive. I talked with the sitter to learn more about the family.
To tell someone about death, especially young couples, is extremely trying. Over the years, the greatest difficulty is telling parents that their young and innocent child is dead. I have no reasons. I have no solutions. All I can do is be there, hold their hands, cry with them, and pray for God's comforting grace to become a healing balm for the hurting.
I try when possible to provide a quiet, uncluttered room with some meditative literature and Scripture pamphlets for the family. I asked the staff for juice or hot beverages for the young couple. They brought something and while they were drinking it, I returned to the room where the staff was working desperately on the child. Everyone was intense. When one method did not work, the doctors tried another. They were determined to save the child. They worked and sweated with all their might.
Unexpectedly, the doctor broke down, then the nurses. Four of the seven member staff were in tears. The doctor came over to me and asked me to pray for them. He squeezed my hand tightly. When I finished, the whole staff was in tears. Even the hard-nosed technicians were in tears. The doctor kept yelling for someone else to call-- the pediatric staff or the downtown hospital. There was a desperate shrill cry in his voice. They tried, but to no avail. The doctor said no one was to leave the room. He came over to me and asked how the parents were doing. He said someone would have to tell them and he didn't think he could do it. He asked if I could. I said the procedure required the doctor to convey the news to them, but that I would be right there to support him, the family and the staff.
I went out to the couple first, followed by the doctor. They jumped to their feet and started asking questions before I even made it to the sofa. I hugged them and slowly pulled them toward their seats. The wife, Marie, started crying, "I know he won't make it, I know it, just tell me, I need to know." The doctor came out, and Marie ran to him. "Doctor, how is my son?" He quietly told her to sit down and be calm because they were doing their best to save their child. He had a hard time to tell them, and quickly went back into the emergency room. I stayed by their side praying to myself. Then I asked Mike and Marie if we could pray together.
Again the doctor and three nurses emerged from the room sobbing. Marie took one look at them and fainted into the arms of her husband. Mike tried to be strong. He focused on Marie as a way to take his mind off his child. He wanted to cry and be held by someone, but he waited.
The nurses revived Marie. The doctor said, "We have tried everything we could. I'm so sorry. I wish we could have done more." She let out with a loud howling cry of desperation. Everyone put his or her arms around someone else. No one was strong. Everyone held another up in his or her weakness. There was a cluster of men and women crying in the arms of someone else. There were even patients who were waiting in the emergency room who started to cry for the family.
The minutes seemed like hours. What took a little more than a half-hour seemed like several hours? Fortunately, there was so much support and empathy being shown by the staff. One nurse said, "My son is the same age, and my sister lost her child to SIDS last year and I couldn't be with them. I never thought this would happen at our base."
The nurses cried for a long time into the night. Finally the parents asked if they could go in and see their son. The doctor said it would be all right but that they should give the staff a few more minutes to clean the room. I left the doctor with them and went in to see the child. There were hoses, catheters, gauze, gloves and other items on the stretcher. When all was cleared away, the nurse called the young couple in. I met them at the entrance. Marie grabbed my hand so tightly I could feel the blood pounding. I led her over to their son, and she slowly put her arms under him and began to pick him up. "He looks so peaceful. Oh look at him, Honey...oh God why did you take him away from us. Oh God, I didn't see him this morning, I didn't feel his warm lips today."
She started kissing him and squeezing him closer to her body. " Oh God, his lips are so cold;" then she handed him to Mike. As he held him his face changed. He suddenly pulled his arm out from under his son because it was covered with blood. He lost it. He could not control his tears. Marie threw her arms around Mike sobbing. The doctor and nurses again embraced the couple telling them with their tears that they were there to support them. We all met our finite and technical limitations in the face of death.
When they finally put him down and turned to leave the room, they said nothing. Their attempt at gratitude was shown with tearful hugs. The doctor and I drove them home because they were in no shape to do it. When we arrived, they showed me all the furniture they had just bought for their son. They wanted to throw it all away so they could start again and with no memory.
Aftercare for the staff and couple lasted several months. The pain does not go away when the funeral is over. It takes years to heal. This loss changed the lives of this hospital staff. Their feelings, thoughts, and procedures had been radically resensitized. All the training in the classroom falls short of the primary encounter with death. People who never knew each other became a strong support group that enabled all to deal with the hurting pain of loss, grief and death.
For those who genuinely believe in their Maker, death becomes not a wall, but a doorway for our finitude to pass through. For the helping professionals and young couple, God became their great comforter in the face of life's most painful event.
Norman's e-mail address: nlbales@allaboutfamilies.org