I Thank My God Upon Every Remembrance of You Phil 1:3
Thank all my brethren and sistrens who have committed to pray for me for this upcoming medical mission to Haiti. Please keep my family here at home in prayer as well. I really covet and appreciate your prayers. It is so wonderful to be a part of the Universal Church and experiencing the communion of saints in action.
On that same note, I am also asking my blogger friends to intercede for a frequent commentor named "Theo". He had a "massive" heart attack and is still in the hospital. He is not yet 50, has two young children and a wife at home. Please keep Theo in your prayers.
Thanks and God bless, I will post pics from the trip when I get back. Let's all grow in grace this Lenten season.
posted by Russ Rentler, M.D. | 2:26 PM
6 Comments:
Will do, TJ. And for Theo, Dearest Mother Mary, wrap Theo and his family in your mantle and hold them close to your Immacualte Heart, where peace, and safety and comfort are. Also, please do the same for TJ as he and the team go to Haiti and bring You and your Son to the poorest of the poor. We fly to you, Our Lady, for your protection and love. Queen of Peace, Pray for us!
susie
JMJ
Theo-
May the Lord watch over you and heal you quickly. May your family have peace and serenity during this time and know that the Lord has you, and holds you in His hands. I still have many enjoyable conversations to engage in where you're input is valued...
You'r Protestant friend,
John H.
TJ-
Be safe as you fulfill His Good Works out there and may the Lord watch over you and your family.
God Bless,
John H.
I'm having TJ withdrawals.... just so you know...
Dear Tiber,
I’ve attempted beginning writing this half a dozen times thus far, only to wipe it out and begin again. Every thought I set to paper (OK, “virtual” paper) falls leagues behind the recollection of the actual events. I suppose any retelling (no matter how prosaic) of any great life event pales in comparison to the event itself, or even to its recollection.
As you know, I suffered a heart attack in mid February. My wife got me to the hospital in time (obviously); however, it was a near thing: I was whisked into the ER, where a team of wonderful doctors, nurses and other medical technicians briskly set about saving my life. As a small whirlwind of activity spun around me, I found myself suddenly surprised to realize a few things:
1. Heart attacks hurt! Seriously, I’d not known one could endure such pain and remain conscious. Now, you might think it odd that this surprised me; however, you musk keep in mind that I’ve had to endure very little extreme physical suffering through out my life.
2. Suffering and peace are not mutually exclusive experiences. One can experience phenomenal peace even while enduring phenomenal suffering.
It is the latter surprise that I wish to talk about today. I suppose I need to start by describing more of the ordeal.
In the ER. my heart was on track to ripping itself apart, racing at over 180 beats per minute. The pain in my chest radiated over my entire body. Imagine that you somehow managed to swallow a live badger whole and the furious creature was trying to claw its way back out through your midsection, then you sort of get the idea.
As my wife was escorted to the waiting area I was barely aware of the medical staff removing my clothes.
I think it was around this time that I noticed that I’d not experienced fear or anxiety throughout the whole ordeal thus far. It was not that I was confident in my recovery. In fact, things looked bleak. I’d recently heard that about 70% of all heart-attack victims do not survive their first event. Yes, it could be that endorphins had kicked in: that my body was shielding my mind through God-ordained natural chemistry and shock; or it could have been a peace that “passes all understanding.” Whatever the cause (and I believe it was the latter), I realized with amazing clarity that regardless of whether I lived or died, all was well (or at least, all would be well).
At the same time I also felt deep sorrow at the prospect of my children growing up fatherless; however, I also realized that many children grow up and flourish in spite of such losses, especially when they’ve already set out upon the right path.
Even as these thoughts pooled into a genuine oasis of peace in a parched land of suffering, a man leaned over me, speaking quietly.
“I’m Father C---, a Catholic Priest,” he said. “Do you have anything to confess?” I focused on his calm face. He smiled as if we had all the time in the world.
“Yes, Father,” I answered. Then after a pause of less than a full second, I began, “Bless me Father for I have sinned. It’s been five weeks since my last confession…” I was unable to make the sign of the cross. I was weak as an infant.
Above, I mentioned the slight pause because something extraordinary happened within that gap of mere milliseconds. Usually I must dig deeply to disabuse myself of my own self deceits. Yet in this instance I saw my condition with (I believe) remarkable clarity. Within an instant, I felt my heart laid bare. The choice was mine to heed or ignore God’s call to ongoing repentance.
Father C--- then heard my confession which poured from my mouth with a concision that even the most casual observer will note I usually lack. He conferred absolution, then administered the sacraments of the Holy Eucharist and the Anointing of the Sick--Some readers might know the latter as “Extreme Unction” or “Last Rights.”
My entire time with the priest likely totaled less than three minutes. Yet, if I had peace before, I now also had something more akin to joy in knowing that I might soon and very soon be heading to my true home.
As the priest left my side, the pain continued building and I lost consciousness.
To the best of my recollection, I experienced nothing until waking up in the intensive cardiac unit many hours later. I soon learned that the extreme pain I now was feeling in my chest was not because I was still having a heart attack, but a side effect of the two electrical shocks delivered to revive me. I had stopped breathing and my heart stopped after the first shock; however, the second did the trick.
It wasn’t long until I realized that I’d been surprised to discover I’d realized a third truth (Remember: 1: Heart attacks hurt. 2: Suffering and peace are not mutually exclusive experiences.), to wit: 3: God is good.
Most Christians (I hope) will deem this a “given,” yet for me, I had not previously realized that I didn’t get it. You see, I’ve always struggled with the philosophical question of the problem of pain in Christianity.
One tends to ask how an infinitely powerful and infinately good God can allow innocent suffering, knowing that many of us finite beings would do whatever we could to eliminate it. Though I’d never admitted it, this question (whose answer still remains beyond me) was for me a statement of no confidence in God Himself. In my heart I questioned God’s goodness; yet now, having suffered and been close to death, I realize that suffering does not preclude God’s goodness. Then again, how could it when He Himself chose to use His own Son’s suffering for our redemption?
That’s all for now.
Humbly,
Theo
Dear Theo:
Thanks so much for sharing that amazing personal testimony! Such powerful truth. If you don't mind, I may post your story in a future blog. God bless, you are still in our prayers
TJ
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