Rejoice With Me: Conclusion (At Least For Now)

It's been a little over two weeks since the miracle on I-64 occurred. My joy has been doubled by hearing of your joy. Thanks for celebrating with us. It's fun to picture the scenes you've described from Austin, Texas to Arlington, Washington…from the Black Forest of Germany to the deserts of Morocco. God is being praised, and that makes me happy.

Baby Steps, Baby Bites
I wish I could say that I am freely eating anything in sight, but the fact of the matter is that those little swallow muscles had been dormant for 18 months and I must still be careful about what I attempt to consume. At least once a meal, getting a little greedy, I take too big of a bite and break into a coughing fit.

If you can picture the size of a bite of baby food that you'd give to a little tike, and then cut it in half, you can picture the size of bites that are best for me to take. As a result, I'm still relying--depending on the day--60 to 90% on my feeding tube, but I'm making progress. While I'm still a long way from taking on a buffet, my nibbling and sipping are gradually getting stronger.

It Doesn't Take Much
Picture this scene: I'm seated in a fast food place with my family. Various assortments of burgers and fries fill the table. Pleasant conversation and laughter flows as freely as the iced tea. I'm eating with them, albeit only one french fry, one nibble of Joanna's sandwich, a sip of her tea and a couple bites of ice cream. A part of me wishes I could just be normal and eat freely like they do…but the fact that I can do something--that I can nibble and sip--makes all the difference. The pain of isolation is gone. The sting of feeling so left out is over. I feel a part again.

Another example: A year ago I was so weak, I was unable to do any household chores except pay the bills…a laborious task on multiple dimensions. But this chore I had always done in our marriage, and I had found nothing to alleviate all the extra work I had caused Joanna. Then I got an idea: I could empty the silverware basket after the dishwasher was finished. This attempt to help Joanna probably only saved her 90 seconds, but it was something I could do. I now was making a contribution…miniscule though it was…and felt encouraged by it.

I think there is something to be learned here that should be applied more broadly. Whether it is a child on a playground, a member of a church, a volunteer in an organization or a guy sitting at a fast food table--a little involvement goes a long way. Too often people are left out entirely because their contribution is considered small. As one who has just moved from the awkward place of watching while others eat, to joining them--albeit in a very small way--I testify that there is a massive difference. Finding even small ways for people to participate can bring more blessing to their lives than you would anticipate. To be included--to belong--is the longing of every heart. Countless people will never be the "lead actor", but if they can have a "bit part", they will experience the pleasure of the whole production.

Running in the Dark
Repeatedly this past year, my caregiver and counselor--Joanna--has talked to me about the life of Joseph from the account in Genesis. Sold by his brothers, hauled away as a slave, falsely accused and then literally forgotten in an Egyptian prison, Joseph had no way of knowing when or even if his trial would end. The dreams he once experienced now mocked him. The life he once enjoyed was now just a distant memory. Month after month he faithfully obeyed God in a forgotten state. Had he known that in just weeks or days his trial would end, it certainly would have been easier to endure. Had he known he only had a mile to go on this grueling marathon, it would have been easier to persevere. But his trial had no mile markers. God Himself had marked off the finish line; but God alone knew where it was.

Joseph didn't have any more reason to hope the day before he got released than he had his entire imprisonment. There was an end to his tunnel, but it was hidden by a sharp bend--a sudden turn of circumstances which he had no way to see.

I am impacted by the fact that Joseph stayed faithful to God during the dark days. His character was tested by trial. His faith was stretched to painful lengths. Each new day looked as bleak as the last.

Yet, suddenly--without warning--it was over. The trail of trial abruptly ended. Certainly there would be other lessons to be learned--other tests to follow--but this long, grueling journey ended never to begin again. I love the picture that when the news of deliverance comes, he is just one shave away from being ready to stand in the pharaoh's presence.

Through the year and a half of being unable to swallow, I took heart from my "coach's" insights. I knew her observations were correct. I related completely to the "tunnel blindness" of Joseph's story. On April 26, the day before my healing, my trial didn't look any brighter than it had any other day. In fact, on the day of healing, my morning began with no greater sense of hope or expectancy than any other morning. Like Joseph, I had no way of seeing my deliverance coming.

But suddenly it happened. I rounded the last curve and unexpectedly found myself in daylight--blinded and confused--but out of the tunnel. I'll probably have many more "tunnel marathons" to run in life. Hopefully this will be one of my worst, but it likely won't be my last. I'll run in the dark more effectively if I am confident that God knows where the finish line is…and leave that detail to Him.

I pray that those of you who are still running in the tunnel will find encouragement from these words today.

Your Fellow Traveler,
John