Despite...

"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. For we know that if the tent that is our healthy home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened-not that we would be unclothed, but that we would  be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by LIFE. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee." 2 Corinthians 4:16-5:5

We all know the body is made up of three beings: the body, the soul, and the spirit. The body consisting of our physical presence. The soul composes our individuality and personality. Hence, our minds. The spirit is that of which extends beyond the grave. Leading up to death, generally our soul and spirit are alive and well. Our bodies and the mind portion of our soul fail us in the end. Ryan's case displays differently. This tumor has negatively affected the inner workings of his body and soul. His intelligent thought is impaired, as well as his individuality and personality.

Memories of Ryan as he was have been my tormentor. I've been called many times to have a burial service for the Ryan I knew. It's unfair to have him there to compare this new man to, because this new man simply can't compare. The two major parts that composed Ryan have died. I'm sparing myself the anger, frustration, and despair. Anything that returns would be by the resurrection power of Jesus. I have a monument and point of recognition that there was a past very different from the present.

But what about his spirit? I've buried Ryan, but I was and continue to be unraveled at the thought and proof that Ryan is losing grasp of many concepts involving Christ. His maturity in this realm seems to be narrowing. How could the foundation upon which we married be crumbling in him? How is God going to complete Ryan in his walk? How can God break through to bring peace in the midst of this impairment?

The need to be known has deep roots in us. Not having this level of knowing severs a relationship and I must say, these deep conversations Ryan and I are able to have every week or two are not of this world. Between Ryan's mental gaps, short term memory loss, and my massive, internal checklist of things to take care of, direction is lost and progress is negligible. When one gear doesn't mesh with the other, the entire clock jams and stops working. No matter how much we communicate, moments of being on the same page (or the same planet) is the Lord interceding on our behalf. They are miracles that bring desperately needed harmony.

"...As my day is, so shall my strength be." Deuteronomy 33:25

There was one night among many that I was broken. Broken with him, broken for him, broken for our children. It was a day that I barely crossed the finish line in one piece. These nights exhaust me on deeper levels because I truly believe my emotions are beyond Ryan's comprehension or grasp. I can talk, I can cry, I can explode, I can pour out my soul and he remains blank. This is a horribly painful disconnect between us. It's like lying next to a stranger. This specific night I expected the usual: no physical touch of comfort, no words of encouragement or even likeness, and a half asleep, medication induced haze while my insides were writhing in pain. Then a surprise. Out of nowhere, Ryan began to pray for me and our children. Ryan is not an out-loud sort of pray-er.  If that was the last prayer I hear him pray, fine. It was perfect. I ached for that moment and it brought me joy. I felt known by him again. I felt heard by him and he took that pain to heart. He didn't burden himself with guilt, but instead lifted and pointed me to our Savior.

It was clear that, even though his body and soul are broken, God is still working in Ryan's spirit. Ryan passed into the presence of the Lord nine months ago, but he was sent back again with a commission to fulfill here on earth. No surgery, epilepsy, medication, or brokenness can rob him of that anchor even if I only see the work being done in his spirit reflect once or twice. The Lord is in our midst, even when Ryan isn't.

"A voice cries: "In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway from our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken." Isaiah 40:3-5

Since my last post, I've learned that courage is not proceeding without fear, but rather proceeding in spite of its presence. I know full well God will call Ryan home someday. What was flooding over me was that I didn't know how God will take him home. I was overcome by the desperation of attempting to avoid another trauma. Ever feel like you are sitting near a ticking time bomb while attached to a ball and chain? All you want to do is run away! This fear was dictating my decisions and whether I was present or absent in certain circumstances. When Ryan's outcome is absolute and I can't save him, my focus shifts to our children; to what I have left here on this earth. My inaudible thought was that I would take the full brunt of the trauma if the boys could be spared. Because I couldn't save the boys from what they saw the first time, somehow, I should be able to save them the second time. This is where I've unconsciously placed my value as a mother...somehow I'm a failure if I can't rescue my children.

Recently we attended a living memorial for a dear friend of ours who is also suffering. 550 guests were in attendance. A man was in the middle of a heartfelt speech. He was choked up and could barely make it through. As he paused for composure, Liam broke his cookie as we were eating. No big deal, right? WRONG. He came COMPLETELY undone! That cookie broke and I couldn't fix it. Liam's hysterical tantrum echoed through the entire event center. I felt all 1,100 eyes in the room bore into the back of my head. The speaker waited to finish until my mom escorted Liam out, me following closely behind with his brother. All the while, Ryan looked like a deer in the headlights. He froze while still managing to empty his plate.

Point of this story being, I wish I could fix this. From these broken fragments, I wish I could create some sense of a family to these two traumatized boys, but I can't. The shell of their father is still here, but the connection and content are missing. Again, not having this level of knowing severs that relationship. When they are with him at home (public situations are totally different and can't be compared) their anger and insecurity spills over. Ryan becomes overwhelmed with no sense of what to do or how to handle them. He usually removes himself from the situation mentally or physically. If he can't do that, he torments the boys in their meltdowns because he himself feels tormented. Tormented by their behavior, tormented that he can't handle their behavior when he feels he should. That being said, weekends are becoming more and more difficult for all of us to recover from. Moments Ryan is able to sit and play with the boys or simply coincide with them peacefully are timely gifts from the Lord.

How do we live and walk this while managing to raise children? Ryan is absolutely an important focus, but the boys are my future long term, therefore, I'm giving them some space and allowance to express their pain. They're two and a half so they can't verbally express what's going on inside, but they can kick, scream, fight, and throw various objects. No, it's not convenient when these outbursts happen. Yes, they get timeouts and are disciplined accordingly. No, I'm not going to break them with the thundering hammer of authority. No, they do not need crushed spirits on top of crushed security. Rick Warren put it so perfectly in his book The Purpose Driven Life. Right now the boys require extra grace. Yes, I'm anxious for the day that they can verbally express their hearts. I hope it will be much less taxing for all involved. In all this anxiety and frustration, I buckle under the weight of grief for our children. When all I want to do is be angry with them, I simply can't. I sit and cry with them, cry for them.

I have to trust God's time. I have to trust His way. I have to trust His place. This applies to all aspects. I have to trust His hand on the boys minds and hearts. I have to trust His presence in Ryan's overwhelm. I have to believe that this will be turned to gold in our lives. I have to trust He is bigger than this. I have to believe this isn't permanent. I have to believe there will be redemption, resurrection, and freedom from this. I have to trust that this life holds His promise, not just tears.

"He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young." Isaiah 40:11

Copyright 2014 ->Renee Sunberg