Quiet.
That word is an understatement when describing our lives since Steve’s surgery ten days ago. He rests a lot, reads, and putters on his computer. I work around the house, doing a little cleaning and organizing, and also work on different projects on the computer. I’ve run out a couple of times to get groceries and go to the post office but I don’t like to leave him for long.
We did have one big outing last week when we went to the bank to get a paper notarized for the house closing. It was Steve’s first time leaving the house since surgery and he said it was overwhelming. If you’ve ever had surgery, you know that feeling. When you first go out, everything is too loud, too busy, and moves way too fast.
But I managed to wrangle the walker in and out of the car and Steve got himself in and out of the bank, his fatigue in no way diluting his usual aplomb. He got into a conversation with the notary public about the background of her name so I knew he was enjoying his twenty minutes out and about. But at the end of it, he was so glad to get back home and lie back down.
We enjoyed a visit and a dinner drop-off from Sarah and Gage last week but other than that, it’s been just him and me.
Quiet.
Steve and I have never dealt with a medical challenge when we weren’t part of a church family and community. When you are part of a church (either as a pastor or a parishioner), there are people checking in, dropping off meals, and surrounding you with care and concern. But not this time.
So we are feeling adrift at the moment. Feeling alone.
Quiet.
As I sit in the quiet I think of amazing long-term caregivers, those of you who serve your loved ones day in and day out. And I am so inspired. In some cases, there will be no finish line. The care is ongoing. From now until death do you part. My hat is off to you. My heart is full of honor and compassion for you and your journey.
I realize how blessed Steve and I are that in the next three weeks or so, our lives will get back to something approaching normal. Although truthfully, we haven’t really found normal yet in these six months that we’ve been in Charlotte. I’m really not sure what normal is or what it will be.
I just know that right now, for this brief season, we are in a silent, sacred time.
Sacred because all ministry doesn’t happen in a church or on a platform.
Sometimes ministry looks like this: Organizing meds. Getting a blanket. Making tea. Scrambling eggs. Dealing with medical accouterments. Offering coffee. Extending comfort. Tending to the needs of my minister husband of forty-one years. Being the hands and feet of Christ to him as he has done for so many others.
During the emotionally and physically harrowing weeks following my mastectomy, Steve cared compassionately for me. He lived out his vows with patience and tenderness during weeks of tears and trauma.
That’s what marriage is. It’s what marriage does. It loves when it’s not convenient. It revels in the small intimacies of service. It sheds private tears when fatigue wells up but then finds a way to smile when a smile is needed It. pushes aside selfishness and shares selflessness. It finds new layers of love and commitment in the middle of serving.
It keeps its promise to love in all seasons–seasons that are busy and full and fulfilling and seasons that are isolated and lonely.
Seasons that are stripped of the busy.
Seasons of the quiet.
In quiet seasons, clutter is not a big concern.
I always love the mixing of old and new.
The ice pack girdle, getting ready for action.
I separate out what meds he needs overnight and write the time on a sticky note. Then he sets his alarms for each dose. (He is in the process of weaning off the strongest med.)
Every day–taking more steps toward healing.
What about you?
If you were to describe your current season in a few words, what would they be?
Do you have any good tips/personal stories for post-surgery days/weeks?
For a number of decades now, the average age at which people marry has gotten older and older. We scoff at people who marry on the younger side. I myself took those cultural cues and judged it for a very long time. I’m in my 40s now and have recently begun noticing that the people among me with the most stable, richest lives are those who found their person at a young age. They’ve grown and moved through life together, always with someone who has their back.
The most embarrassing thing I can admit about myself is that I just got divorced for the second time. How immensely hard it’s been, choosing, struggling to heal, and then extricating myself from these unhappy marriages. If I could change one decision from my past it would be to stay with the kind, loving man I dated in college, instead of following the tide of romantic restlessness of my peers. That man went on to marry a lovely woman and have a gentle and beautiful life and family together.
What a blessing it’s been for you and Steve to have moved through life together as true and loving partners and companions (and I think partnership doesn’t mean perfection, but love and respect that endures through the imperfections). You clearly set a glorious example for your children who have chosen the same for themselves. I cannot think of any bigger gift to give your children. Love, family, it’s the meaning of life. I truly do not think that bestowing 10 million dollars upon them each would have enriched their lives more than the partnerships and family units they have formed in your image (not that they should turn down any offers of $10 million dollars 🙂).
I hope one day my son DOESN’T learn from my poor example, and chooses instead to treasure enduring love like your family has.
Statistically, those who marry young, in their teens and early 20s divorce more often. The mid 20s to early 30s are the optimal ages for lasting marriages. The odds get lower as couples venture out of that range. However, as always, such numbers are in a conglomerate and do not apply to individual situations. Joy and blessings to those who are happily together for many years.
Hope that Steve is recovering well. Not too much activity despite what the medical crowd says because Im seeing way too many femurs cracking after hip replacements these days. Don’t know if it’s because too many surgeons trying anterior when they don’t have the skills and experience to do it well. Several of my friends exascerbated cracks by over extending selves. Fortunately caught at 3-4 week post op exam that they requested. Seems like for every improvement in things, there are complications. My brother is going to be getting an anterior hip replacement, and it worries me greatly. Thanks for sharing Steve’s journey as we can see it’s a slow going healing process.
The River of life here is not just flowing but gushing. Sometimes, a slow quiet time helps overall even if the cause is not what we wanted
Blessings to all
Catherine,
You’re so right that those numbers are in a conglomerate and don’t apply to individual situations. Since I married at nineteen, I’m especially glad that is the case! 🙂
Thanks for inquiring about Steve’s recovery. He has actually turned out to be one of those in the “cracked femur” group which we just found out a few days ago. I’ll be posting about that later in the morning.
I hope that your river flows a little slower in the coming days/weeks so that you can get a little rest. It’s so true that the pace of life ebbs and flows–sometimes in ways that are out of our control, i.e., Steve’s surgery. Blessngs to you, as well.
Ellen,
I think that your son is beyond blessed to have you as a mother. No parent is perfect; Steve and I are very far from it. Children don’t need perfection in a parent. They need to know they are loved and I am sure your son knows that beyond any doubt.
So I hope he does learn from the example you have set in making it through difficult times– healing, learning, and growing in the process.
I am sad to know that you have been through the heartache of a second divorce and that you look back at parts of your life and some of your decisions with regret. The “what ifs” of life are hard to contemplate. At 61, I look back at my own list of “what ifs” and “should haves.” You are not alone.
I love the verse in the Bible that says, “Weeping may endure for a night but joy comes in the morning.” You have certainly done your share of weeping. The clouds will clear and you will see joy again.
Many hugs to your and your sweet son.
You are facing a new normal. Not always easy I know.
My life right now in a few words is anticipatory grIef. My mom has dementia and it is progressing. Gone is the mother I knew for most of my life. I visit my parents 3-4 times a week. Most of the time she is asleep and doesn’t even know I’m there. It is hard on my dad too. They will be married 74 years in June.
Phyllis,
Anticipatory grief. What a poignant, honest, heart-touching phrase.
I remember the first time I visited my grandma and she didn’t recognize me. The whole world tilted a little bit.
And almost seventy-four years of marriage! What a commitment to love and faithfulness. Peace to you and your whole family.
My dad has dementia too. I totally get it. It’s like you said: their body is still here but the parent we knew for all those years isn’t really with us anymore. I’m so sorry. ♥️
Hey Becky-
I am still reading your blog every week just got busy around the end of the year and never had much time to comment but I do keep you all in my prayers.
I am so happy that both your children and grandkids will be near by.
I hope Steve recuperates quickly from his hip surgery. I know he is eager to get back doing projects around the house. He seems like someone that enjoys being busy and having some project going on. He is so fortunate to have such a great caretaker. Take care of yourself in the mean time.
By the way, I love what you all are doing to the house. So many past memories and so many new memories to be made there.
Know I am always here even if I am. I really look forward to your blog each Monday morning. You always get my week off to a good start.
Joy
Joy,
Thanks so much for letting me know you’re still hanging out with us.
This is definitely a season of challenges and joys, from Steve’s surgery to the grandkids moving close by and everything in between.
Thanks for your compliment on the house; it’s been quite a process with much yet to do. But we’re excited to make it our own. Have a great rest of the week!
I love your words about marriage. I was humbled to witness our daughter being a caretaker to her husband, who passed away about 3 weeks ago following a nearly 4-year battle with cancer. My daughter is now a 36-year old widow and single parent to our 13-year old grandson. It has been a sad season for all of us, especially over the past 6 months. Things are beginning to look a bit brighter as we all settle into a new normal, which includes us taking over some parenting-type responsibilities, which we don’t mind doing at all. We are lucky to live just a mile or so away.
As for the surgery recovery, my hip replacement was over 5 years ago now, and my advice would be to do all of the prescribed exercises and listen to those physical therapists! I started therapy just a few days after coming home and it made all the difference. It really was not a bad recovery, and going through that made my quality of life so much better! My hip now squeaks at times, but it is pain-free!! Keep up the good work!
Gayle,
Four years. That’s a lot of caretaking. That’s a lot of love.
And the thought of your grandson seeing love in action all those years? Even though I know it was heart-rendingly difficult, that example of faithfulness and care will never leave him. Bless you all as you adust to this new season of life; so glad you live so close and are able to help. You are a blessed family with so much love.
A squeak is definitely preferred over pain. Glad you had such good results.
Both you and Steve really know how to make each feel special. It makes a woman’s heart feel good to see and hear how he treats you and the things he does for you. It goes both ways in how you care for him, especially during this time. You are really empty nesters now, but thankful that Gage and Sarah are nearby to help.
Sharyn,
Thanks for your sweet words. I’m thankful for the man God gave me.
Yes, we are glad to have Sarah and Gage near. They are coming for dinner tonight so it will be fun to her some voices in the house other than our own. 🙂
Oh my, how these words spoke to me:
“That’s what marriage is. It’s what marriage does. It loves when it’s not convenient. It revels in the small intimacies of service. It sheds private tears when fatigue wells up but then finds a way to smile when a smile is needed It. pushes aside selfishness and shares selflessness. It finds new layers of love and commitment in the middle of serving.
It keeps its promise to love in all seasons–seasons that are busy and full and fulfilling and seasons that are isolated and lonely.
Seasons that are stripped of the busy.
Seasons of the quiet.”
We’ve been asked multiple times recently what makes our marriage a success and our answer is always – love is not always a feeling, love is a verb/an action. You put it so much more eloquently!
The quiet…the service…the leaning in…
It’s easy to find/feel love in times of happiness and ease but when you find the joy and the love through the quiet and the hard and the lonely, there’s something deeper in that kind of relationship. You guys are a wonderful example of God’s love to us and such a inspiration. Thank you for sharing your love (and your writing) with us!
We are coming out of a season of hard…we still have some PTSD but we are finding the joy and laughter more easily! God has been faithful through it all! SO thankful for the man He put in my life to see us through.
My biggest advice post surgery…stay on top of the pain and do your PT and rest (don’t overdo)! Steve seems like he is doing great!
Continued prayers for both of you as you navigate this part of the journey!
Suzanne,
A season of hard. What a great way to describe a difficult time. It really just sums everything up with no more words needed.
I was glad to read you are coming out of that season and no longer in the middle of it. Although the scars will stay with you awhile (maybe always), the coming out of the hard season opens the door to a time of hope. Healing is ahead!
I’m grateful my words about marriage were meaningful to you. It sounds as though we have both been blessed with some really great husbands. Hugs.
Glad Steve is progressing well following his hip surgery. My husband had his 8 week post op for his shoulder today. The PA said she wants him to have 6 more weeks of PT and then she plans to release him. Thankfully he didn’t need a rotator cuff repair but a multitude of other things. It won’t be long and you’ll have your whole family within a short driving distance. How wonderful that will be!
Marylea,
I know you and your husband are glad to have 8 weeks behind you. You’re over the halfway point!
Yes, very happy about having family so close. We’ve never lived close to both of your kids.
My prayers are with you and Steve as you care for him during this time. You are so right about these quiet seasons. I heard someone say recently about how the seasons of life change and about finding the joy in each season. I thought about you. You have had so many seasons and you always find the joy in them.
Lisa,
Find joy in each season.
That is such good advice. Each season has its joys; some of them you might have to look a little harder, but they’re there!
Thank you for the encouragement and the prayers.
The season is also quiet here in Maryland. But as the cold days begin to give way to bright sunshine with teases of a few warmer afternoons, I am feeling hopeful that I too will become more myself. Still healing from the broken leg, I am venturing outside daily to do some slow walking. 30 minutes is all I can do but its more than last week 🙂
Sarah is behaving herself, not throwing me any curve balls while I heel. Haha, pun not intended.
The most important thing post surgery is to take softeners so the pain meds and lack of mobility doesnt back things up, if you get my drift. Thats the worst. Also, dont let the pain get ahead of you because it takes forever to catch up, altho Steve sounds like he’s past that issue. Watch for any signs of infection- fever, redness, increased drainage. Most of all listen to your body, it knows what it has to do. It’s default is to return to normalcy.
Hope to hear more good reports next week 🙂 Maybe I will be up to 40 minutes of hobbling 🙂
Lesley,
I love the thought that a body’s default is to return to normalcy. Therefore it makes sense that we have to trust our bodies and listen to them.
Steve’s been on Colace ever since the surgery so we are definitely in agreement with you on that. He is doing great weaning off Oxy. He went from taking it every four hours to every six hours and tomorrow we’ll move it to seven.
I’m glad your leg is doing better and that there is “bright sunshine with teases of a few warmer afternoons.” Spring is such a hopeful season.
Hugs to you and sweet Sarah.
What a beautiful post! I really like the black and white picture of Steve walking outside. I guess my season is “normal.” Work and church, cooking and cleaning.
Greta,
Normal is a good season! You need to add to your list, “friending” because you do so much with so many people! 🙂 Enjoy your week.
Wow, I feel like you were writing about me and my hubby, Greg. As I have wrote before, he fell off of a roof two and a half years ago and hit his heel over cement and shattered it. Five surgeries later, he just had his fifth emergency surgery three weeks ago, and he is still laying on the couch, wishing he was playing golf. He had an infection in that heel so all the hardware and the cadaver bone and everything they put in before has been taken out now. It is back to the way it was when he fell minus the fragments of bone. Not sure what the plan is.. the doc had spoken of doing a fusion and he wouldn’t be able to bend his ankle to walk anymore and would always have a limp. At this point, Greg is about to decide not to let them do anything more and after they let him start walking again he says if he feels like he can live with his foot the way it is, then it will be the end of this journey. The incision has almost closed up and I have been changing the packing every day and also putting strong antibiotics in his PICC line three times a day.
I know how you feel about the quiet. We have not had many people beside the home health nurses coming in every Monday to change the dressing on the PICC line and drawing blood. Our church had two guys to come and build a ramp so Greg can be pushed out to the car. The only place he has been since the last surgery is to the doctors in Winston Salem twice a week. Our neighbor brought a meal one day and if I don’t feel like cooking I will run out the road and buy something and bring it home. I will be so glad, as will Greg, when this journey is over. It has been long and hard… add in my mom being in the hospital ten days with Covid and then falling the other day and has cellulitis in her leg and her artificial kneecap has broken in two. They can’t do surgery on it because of her age (86) and her heart. We buried her last brother the other day…she is the last one living out of ten kids.
Yes, this season has not been fun for any of us. I went back to church yesterday which thrilled me so much. I have missed it. I had to do some of my “nursing duties” a little later but they got done. Love my church and church family so much. I pray that Steve will heal fast and be back to his jolly self soon and doing all those little honey do things on the list. Praying for you because I am right there with you and it is hard some days.
Kaye,
You and Greg have really been through it. I can’t imagine how discouraging it must have been when he got that infection and everything had to be taken back out of his heel. What a setback!
And then with your mom’s physical challenges and your uncle’s passing–that it is a LOT. So glad you were able to get out to church on Sunday and be with your church family; that must have lifted your spirits so much. I’m thankful they helped you with the wheelchair ramp; that is a big deal to be able to have one of those.
Here’s hoping that your days grow brighter and you start seeing some rays of hope on the horizon. Many hugs to you both.
My season would be ‘uncertain’ right now. We are doing some last things to our house before we begin looking for a new home closer to our kids and grand kids. The uncertainty of when/how our house will sell….the uncertainty of where we will end up and how that will all work. I don’t do change well, so this is all giving me a dose of anxiety when I think about it. Ugh.
Glad that Steve is healing up. I pray for him daily. Hugs!
Lee Anne,
Oh my. House selling/buying is the very definition of an uncertain season. Sometimes you have to cast your vision to the end result of all the uncertainty and picture yourself cozily settled into your new spot, surrounded by people you love–who live close by!
I also ask myself in times of uncertainty, “Can I get through today and tomorrow?” If the answer is “yes” (and it always is), I figure I can just string some todays and tomorrows together and I’ll eventually be on the other side of that season.
Thanks so much for your daily prayers for Steve. That means so much.
I continue to learn that seasons are just that….’seasons’! I can so relate to the quiet and it’s deafening sound.
Although my season of ‘quiet’ will soon be going on 5 years, I’m learning to no longer resist it, but lean in knowing that in the quiet he meets me in ways he never could if I had my old life back.
Waiting seasons….a passageway where he does he deepest work within, reminding me he sees, he cares, he loves…and there is great purpose.
Choosing to embrace ‘quiet’ has revealed so much of my Heavenly Fathers love for me.
Praying, that in your quiet, you rest in him and his perfect plan as you gentle take one step at a time!
I love your family!!!
Kim
Kim,
Those words are so true: quiet is a deafening sound.
I know you’ve experienced your share of quiet over these past five years; it’s even harder to get used to that sound when you were so used to another person there to fill the moments with conversation, laughter, and prayer.
I’ve followed your musings on Facebook and have been so inspired and challenged by the way you are living and telling your story. Love you!
Hi Becky –
Just reading this post brings back so many memories of Randy’s hip replacements. When a surgery happens, yes, it has ONE physical patient but oh how it affects the whole family and all the goings on (an not). I know with Randy, each day got better with resting, laughter and a whole lot of prayer. He woke up with no pain and was astonished – since he is in constant pain with the different types of arthritis and other ailments. But just seeing those days where he could actually smile and be pain free was all this heart needed to keep helping him along. His hips are still doing GREAT – it’s been 3 years and THREE hip replacements (ha – I know, we only have two, but Randy… ah yes, MY Randy is an over achiever). Keep moving one step forward as they will continue to be easier — we will continue praying for you and Steve as he heals and as you both find your new normal. Many hugs and prayers…..
Beth,
I love reading that Randy is an overachiever. Because why NOT have three hip replacements on two hips? 🙂 So glad he has had a positive experience and especially knowing he’s had a decrease in pain. I’m so looking forward to Steve being able to walk and ride bike again without pain or limping.
You’re so right that a surgery and recovery affects the whole family. Everyone shares in the difficulty of recovery and then everyone gets to share in the joy of being recovered.
Thanks for your encouraging words.
Things have been pretty quiet lately, lots of snow and frigid weather. This is the hardest winter since I moved here six years ago. So I have been .reading a lot. I have this sinus issue going on, I am trying to be patient for my ent appointment next month. Glad to hear Steve is recovering.
Cindy,
Good news! Spring is around the corner! Keep reading and before you know it, you’ll see it.
So sorry you are still dealing with sinus issue. That is miserable and the frigid air probably doesn’t help much. Hugs.
You have done a good description of long-term marriage.
The days and years flow by, some linger with shadows, but the good ones light the path, making an invisible strength that holds you together; to keep on and finish the race set before you.
Ruth
Ruth,
I love the picture of years flowing by–so often we hear that they “fly by” but I think flowing is a much better description. Sometimes the river of years runs fast and sometimes slower, but it’s always flowing.
Thank you for the encouragement of your lovely, poetic words.