Back in those days, when my husband’s heart could hardly hold him up, I would get home from teaching all day and my night job would begin. It was a night job I did not sign up for or expect or want. But it was one that brought me to my true purpose – to be a helper (Genesis 2:18).
I quickly learned how to do the big jobs like mow the grass, get on ladders, and move heavy things because there was no one else to do it. However, it was the small jobs that made me miss my husband even more. No longer could he take out the trash or grill his famous steaks outside. No longer could he sleep close to me at night.
After getting home and finishing my night jobs, then the rest of the night began. It always started with John laying in my lap. He was so sick and frail with an IV medication as a constant reminder of how sick he really was. Later when it was time to go to bed he went to his new bed – the recliner. No longer could he make the trip upstairs, and no longer could he sleep flat. He couldn’t breathe that way. So I would take my place on my new bed – the sofa nearby – so that I hear him breathe – or not breathe. Of course sleep was something neither one of us got often back then. If we weren’t awake from not feeling well, then we were awake from fear.
There were times when I found myself getting resentful. It was like taking care of a child, except that he wasn’t a child. He was my husband. He was supposed to be taking care of me. Not knowing how it really felt to be sick with Cardiomyopathy I would rationalize that he could do more. For the longest time John hid the extent of his sickness from me. He pressed on, kept working, to protect me. I didn’t understand why it seemed that “all of a sudden” he couldn’t do things he used to do. Many nights I went to bed in tears. The days became one like a tunnel where I could see the light at the end, but the outside was blurry – a blurr that seemed to never clear. I told my friends I could not do it another day.
Those were the moments that I remembered my choice. We did not have a choice of whether or not to go through this experience so early in our marriage, but I did have a choice of how I would respond to it.
I chose to become a helper. I picked up my cross (Matthew 16:24-25), and I surrendered. My only purpose became to serve my husband. Everything else – my job, our house, my wants, my desires – became second or third or fourth.
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