Experience – Page 5 – Jimmy Locklear

Chapter 9: Moving Day

Saturday is “Moving Day” in the context of professional golf’s typical four-day tournament, Thursday and Friday are used to whittle down the field of players to the final 40 or so who will play the two weekend rounds. Everyone who fails to make the cut goes home. Saturday is called “Moving Day” because it is the day when competitors try to set themselves us for the final push on Sunday.

There are a couple of similarities for me on this Saturday. Moving out of CCU is very likely according to the nurses and doctors I had seen so far. And moving to a semi-private room means I was one step closer to being discharged and one step closer to returning home to Atlanta. The implications of changing rooms and eventually being discharged were the dominant themes for the day. It must be similar to the golfer fielding questions about where he needs to be on Sunday in order to have a chance to win the tournament. But he hasn’t even played the 18 holes scheduled for today! One thing at a time, please.

Curt was trying to get a new plane reservation to fly to Atlanta on Saturday evening or Sunday, but there were long wait times on the phone. Eventually, he took a taxi to the airport and made a reservation for Sunday at 1:00 PM. Curt had been a great support and friend to me when I really needed him to help me. I thanked him for everything as he left my room that afternoon.

I had changed the station on the radio that Lind had secured for me. All day Saturday there was classical music filling the background in my room. The music reminded me of beauty being born of suffering as I recalled the struggles that had filled the lives of many composers. Perhaps beauty could come from my pain.

I had received an email message from my friend and fellow elder Brian Terrell saying that he was going to be making an announcement during the worship service on Sunday morning at our church. He had expressed his shock and disbelief upon receiving my email on the 10^th that I had sent to elders and pastors at my church. Later in the day I sent an email with the following prayer requests:

Thankful for wonderful care at hospital in Montreal
Safe travel for Jenny & Jameson to Montreal on Sunday
Good discharge from hospital on Monday
Smooth flight home on Tuesday.

It all seemed so simple.

Again, I was told in the afternoon that I would probably have to leave my CCU room and move to the Cardiology section that was two floors up later that day. I would likely go to a semi-private room with one other patient. The hospital was experiencing high emergency demand with a flu epidemic and the usual influx of sick people on the weekend.

Rev. Terry Gyger was an old friend of mine who had spent many years helping folks plant new churches in major cities around the world. Terry had recently “retired” from a position as president of Redeemer City To City based in New York. He and his wife Dorothy had been using Atlanta as home base and now Terry would be working from there as well. He was helping my church in our transitions and we had just made the decision to hire him as our Interim Senior Pastor prior to my trip to Montreal. Thus, he was on my distribution when I emailed the Intown folks about my heart attack. Terry contacted a pastor friend of his who lived in Montreal to let him know of my situation. Consequently, I received a call that morning from Rev. Jean Zoellner who was traveling back to Montreal from Ottawa and wanted to come see me this evening. I was delighted to hear from him and looked forward to his visit. He came by after dinner and we had a refreshing and encouraging time. He lived in a South Montreal neighborhood with a L’Arche community. The L’Arche folks had converted a church into a day program center and the rectory was now the L’Arche residential house.

Since I now had my suitcase, backpack and a plastic bag of clothes (think large bag including boots and a winter coat – Montreal in January, remember!) that I had worn to the ER, moving me to another unit would not be a simple feat. However, around 10:00 PM, the nurse told me to go to sleep because they had not heard anything. After expecting to move all day, I was wondering what was going to happen. She said, “We’re keeping you here as long as we can because we know we are better when you are here.”

I was so struck by her comment that I immediately entered it into the notepad in my iPhone. I was not sure exactly what she meant, but I liked the sentiment.

Finally, at 11:40 PM, a couple of nurses and an orderly came in and said that it was time to move.

We gathered all my stuff, decided to toss my 3 different oxygen masks, and I sat in a mega wheeled chair and we were off. It reminded me of a Jeff Foxworthy story about his family going to Hawaii. I think he called it, “The Clampetts Go On Vacation.” When the elevator door opened to the 4^th Floor I thought I had crossed into the tropics. The air was thick and hot. Where was I? There were even beds in the hallway and it was dark and seemed foggy, though I expect that was my brain having been awakened during my first rim cycle of sleep.

Soon, we reached my new room. It was smaller and there was sleeping person on the other side of the curtain. I got into a harder, flatter bed. It was nosier with new nurses who insisted on checking my vital signs and connecting me to an older, heavier transmitter for monitoring my heart activity. Unfortunately, I was not able to get much sleep that night.

Moving Day was finally over. It had been a really terrific day, but the ending minutes gave me even greater desire for Home.

Sacred Heart Attack – Chapter 4: Everyone is Shocked

We pick up my journal on Thursday afternoon, the day after my heart attack. The ripple of communication about my Montreal surprise is just beginning to widen.

“I didn’t have much of an appetite and hadn’t eaten since breakfast on Wednesday. For lunch, I ate some fruit, a small salad and a cracker. I couldn’t eat the spaghetti, although it looked good.

Curt was finally able to reach Jenny by phone after school on Thursday. She quickly called me back on the hospital phone in my room. We talked for several minutes and were both in shock. And we were both encouraged that my voice sounded strong and healthy. Pretty normal. I told her what had happened and we talked about how we would tell the boys and my siblings. She would call the boys and our daughter-in-law and invite them to call me. I would send an email to my two brothers and sister. I also sent an email to the elders and pastors at my church and a few other friends.

I suppose it was no surprise that everyone was shocked by the news. Since I was hundreds of miles away, we had made the decision to underplay the significance or the severity of the heart attack for a few days by not going into a lot of detail. And since I was sounding pretty good on the phone – I guess I still had some adrenaline in my system – it was easy to pull off. But, the medical staff and Curt would remind me of the reality of my situation from time to time to keep my feet on the ground. I could not deny the reality that my heart had been weakened and damaged. I didn’t know what that would mean, but I knew that things were going to be different.

I was taking a large potassium pill and a water pill due to some extra fluid that was still in my lungs. Early on, I would simply take whatever pill the nurse was offering me. I was trusting that all of the bases were being covered. I had a bit of a fever, too, and the Tylenol seemed to take care of that. That was my only option for fever or pain.

Curt was interested in talking about when Jenny would be flying to Montreal. I was more concerned with protecting her during her busy season at school and not wanting to make plans until we knew my status and how long I might be staying in the hospital. There was a thought floating around that I might have to stay in Montreal for two weeks before flying home. Making international travel plans required a bit more planning than we had data for at that point.

At some point Thursday evening, I talked to our oldest son Jameson. He was totally shocked, as was his wife Bethany who was listening in the background when Jenny had called Jameson. Bethany said that she knew they couldn’t be talking about me and must be talking about someone else who had heart problems. It was good to talk with them. It was Friday when I talked with Justin, our middle son, who had been called by Jenny the night before during rehearsals of a new show that was about to open. Justin said that he had been too emotionally spent from his day and my news to call on Thursday. I know the feeling. Jed would call later in the weekend and in his unique style started off by saying something to the effect of, “So, you had a little surprise up there in Montreal.”

As messages began to come back from friends and family, it is restorative and nourishing one’s soul to hear folks say that they are glad and thankful that you are alive. And for them to be thanking God that you are alive.

For a couple of years, I have been using a birthday greeting that I learned from Henri Nouwen. It is in his “daybook” called “Bread for the Journey” on the reading for February 13. Here it is:

Celebrating Being Alive

Birthdays are so important. On our birthdays we celebrate being alive. On our birthdays people can say to us, “Thank you for being!” Birthday presents are signs of our families’ and friends’ joy that we are part of their lives. Little children often look forward to their birthdays for months. Their birthdays are their big days, when they are the center of attention and all their friends come to celebrate.

We should never forget our birthdays or the birthdays of those who are close to us. Birthdays keep us childlike. They remind us that what is important is not what we do or accomplish, not what we have or who we know, but that we are, here and now. On birthdays let us be grateful for the gift of life.’

It is a powerful and profound message that truly says what we feel, but are often afraid to say. Coming near to death gives us an invitation to express how we really feel about someone. A birthday can do that as well.

Curt, also, shared with me that night some of his and Nathan’s conversation from Wednesday evening while I was in surgery. They discussed ways that this heart attack might change my life and how things would be different. They observed that I was a good man and that I really “got” the mission and vision of L’Arche. Good words to hear.

I slept well that night.”

“There’s a book for that. Really?” Not always.

Do you ever feel that your day has a theme? When it seems that the Universe is trying to get a message to you? And when you started to connect the dots, it seems like an important message to share? Welcome to today.

This morning I attending another Creative Mornings Atlanta breakfast {http://www.creativemornings.com/} and heard an inspiring presentation on art, craftsmanship and work from Jason & Julie Henry { http://www.henryandco.com/ }. As the Q. & A. would prove, one of the more intriguing themes that Jason brought up was the apprenticeship that he served with his father many years ago and how, over time, his hands became tools of his trade. My friend Ryan Tuttle, with whom I sat at the meeting, later shared how he had apprenticed with his father many years ago in Savannah. And last weekend when talking with my son Justin Locklear, he brought up the now legendary 10,000-Hour Rule explicated by Malcolm Gladwell in his book Outliers as the entry point for being an expert in your field. Justin feels he is about 6,000 hours into that “apprenticeship.”

Finally, as I put my computer down on a table in this coffee shop a woman at the next table said to her friend, “You know, [insert famous evangelical pastor’s name here] has done a series on that.” There it was. Our fast answer to any challenge. There’s a book, a video, a course or even a TV program that will give you the knowledge you need to overcome your present obstacle.

Actually, more knowledge is not usually our problem. We are human beings. We are mind, body, emotions, soul, spirit, heart, muscles, bones and the list goes on. We’re complicated and complex. And the phrase, “Experience is the best teacher;” is, in fact, true.

A good friend of mine is an experience designer for a high-impact 501(c)3 organization involved with church leadership and congregational renewal. {www.wellspringgroup.org} Often times I’m sure she has to explain what that means and inevitably folks say, “Oh, you develop the curriculum.” Because, you see, that’s where we want to go. We want to gain more knowledge in the hope that our life’s issues will be solved if we can just find that key bit, or byte, of knowledge that will unlock my struggles and put me on the road to success. We want to arrive without walking or driving all of those miles.

You see, it is only in the crucible of pain that we learn that we have strength. Even Jesus wanted to forego the pain of crucifixion if there was a way to purchase back the people of the world some other way. John 22:41 Then He withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, knelt down, and began to pray, 42 “Father, if You are willing, take this cup away from Me — nevertheless, not My will, but Yours, be done.” {HCSB}

I have several books on running. And they definitely helped me run three marathons in 2011. But what helped me more was running four days a week for about three years. The books told me about adding miles, but it was my experience of running those miles that prepared my body and my mind to actually run 26.2 miles.

But, my most profound experience of growth has occurred in my relationship with God over the past five years. I had read books about God, about what we should believe about God and how he works in the world, but I learned who he was and is and how he wanted to relate to me by sitting in silence with empty and open hands and bringing my distracted heart to him. I felt and saw his love in tangible ways. We developed a relationship by actually spending time together. Not reading another book. Although I’ve read more books in the past five years than during any other time in my life, my learning was actualized by consistently spending time in solitude with the heart of an apprentice who wanted to learn how to live, love, work. And somehow that was enough. Experience God’s love. It’s better than a book.