Warning: If you haven’t already, you’ll need to read my previous post, Transplant., for context.
The days I was in a coma, during the transplant itself and the few days after aren’t really my part of the story. That part belongs to the people surrounding my parents in the worst moments of their lives. It’s a story of people on their knees praying like they have never prayed before. It’s a story full of prayer, desperation, faith and hope. There are so many stories, so many people- but the main voices at this point are those of my mom, my dad and my sister. Let’s start with…
Like a child, I never tire of hearing certain stories. I especially love my mom’s story of when I was in a coma. Her words say it best:
“My own journey with God during the longest weekend of my life was really quite intimate. Because you see not for one minute did I feel that God had abandoned us. I believe that He was there with us experiencing all our emotions and giving me strength that I never thought I possessed. You see, I have never been very good with medical situations. I have always counted on Mark, or prayed I would just never have to deal with anything serious. Never would I have believed that I could have stood by my daughters bed side, with all the tubes and machine and hold up…but God held me up. I did not think that we were being punished or that God had done this to teach us something. As people said, ‘why Lisa’, my heart responded why someone else and not Lisa. At one point though I remember telling God that I had given my children to Him but now I was drawing the line, He couldn’t have her yet. How silly of me, but how understanding and loving God was to listen and understand. Somewhere in my journey I was able to finally surrender and tell God that I knew no matter what happened Lisa would be okay, either with Him or me, but that if He got her, He would have a very sad woman to deal with. I know it was selfish. God understood. And you know, by His grace He let me keep her a little longer. He knew that the world still needed her a little longer and that He would wait. He also knew that He would be glorified through this and many would see His hand in her healing and give glory to Him. Oh God, thank you for giving her back to us. We are so sorry that someone had to die for her to live. Like Jesus dying for us to live. What a profound illustration. We pray for the family who lost their mother. We pray that Lisa’s life makes their grief a little easier to deal with. Such conflicted emotions, the greatest being overwhelming gratitude.”
This is the sentence that forces me to pause:
“Somewhere in my journey I was able to finally surrender…”
I’m really bad at surrendering. I like control. I like to hold on to things really tight and try to make things work out the way I want them to.
Surrender for me sounds much more like this: “Somewhere in the last hour I was able to finally surrender..for about 10 minutes or so….”
Having two kids of my own now, I can’t imagine being my mom’s shoes. I can’t fathom sitting by my daughter’s side watching her die. I can’t grasp the shock that she was experiencing as things happened so fast. I can’t even begin to understand the thoughts, the assumptions, the questions that were running through her head.
And in the midst of it all, I don’t know how she did it, but she did- she surrendered.