Sacred Heart Attack – Chapter 6: That Heart Attack Feeling, Again

We pick up the story in the late afternoon around 3:40 on Friday January 11th. Pretty soon, Dr. Charron came by again. He wanted to give me an invoice (I had no place to put it!) and talk about today’s procedure. We were all more relaxed. There were smiling faces and calm voices. This was quite a contrast from Wednesday. Dr. Charron said that everything should go very well, but that some folks have another heart attack during an angioplasty procedure: “About 5%,” he said. I already knew I was in a special minority. I didn’t need to be in that 5%.

As the nurses rolled me into the O.R., there was cold air and two people lifted me on to the table. One nurse taped the oxygen monitor to my left index finger, then flipped up the arm holders on each side of the table. I had hoped that they could use my right arm again as the entry point for the tube and stent, but it was not to be.

Dr. Charron said that he was going to go through my groin and femoral artery for the heart catheterization and angioplasty and placement of the stent. A nurse asked me for the English word for “groin.” The doctor said that the blood pressure in my right arm was not strong enough to go through my radial artery again.

So, this time when the nurse said that the application of the iodine paste was going to be cold, I knew what to expect. She was more comprehensive than before and covered me from my waist down to my thighs with an iodine bath of the slush-like liquid. This was followed by fabric and then paper covering me from neck to feet. Next, one of the doctors injected the lateral groin area with local anesthesia. He injected a couple of times in the area where the slit and insertion point would be. While a high pain threshold can be a problem, it is a blessing for situations like this when I’m receiving multiple sticks and pricks.

In short order Dr. Charron made a small incision and then was inserting the Seldinger needle at a 30-45° angle into the femoral artery. A guide wire is then inserted through the needle into the artery and the preparation for the journey to the heart begins. The needle is removed and the catheter sheath and dilator are pushed over the guide wire. Then the dilator is removed and the sheath is ready to receive the catheter. I could feel the process begin as Dr. Charron pushed a tube through my lower abdomen in search of the right coronary artery that was 70% blocked. The plan was to open up the artery with a balloon and then place a 4 x 16 mm stainless steel or cobalt-chromium alloy mesh stent to keep it open with 0% blockage.

After some time of injected dye and moving the x-ray machine around so that the doctors could see where everything needed to come together, I began to feel the pressure and burning that had been my dreaded companion on Wednesday. “Surely not,” I thought. “Am I going to be one of the 5%?”

I said that I was feeling pressure like I had on Wednesday. Dr. Charron broke from a steady banter in French and spoke to me in English, “It’s perfectly normal. We’re close to being finished.”

My anxiety decreased, but my pain stayed steady. What an awful feeling. Soon the pain began to quiet. The tube was being removed and a huge rolled up fabric bandage, like a towel was pressed tight across the right side of my groin area from my waist to between my legs. It was secured with tape. Then another doctor came over to massage the area of my femoral artery. A vascular closure seal had been positioned on the outer surface of the artery and would be resorbed within 60-90 days. The massaging helped the artery settle back into it’s naturally protected position. I was not allowed to sit up for several hours because of the fragility and danger of leakage with this artery.

Dr. Charron drew my attention to the large video screens to my left and showed me before and after pictures of my artery. His work was called percutaneous coronary intervention [PCI]. What I saw was a picture of brokenness being restored to shalom – all was as it should be now. No doubt it is similar work that the Holy Spirit performs in opening the hardened places in our spiritual hearts so that life-giving blood can flow.

I had no oxygen mask this time. I was transferred to a rolling bed and moved back to the “on deck” room – pre-op was now post-op as patients were intermingled in this large banquet hall. My whole time in the Operating Room equaled 60 minutes. Wow. A life-saving deed was done to/for me in only an hour. Years of training, discipline and experience allowed these medical people to efficiently and effectively “fix me” in the time many of us spend watching an episode of our favorite TV program.

I was feeling better, but was tired and hungry. When I returned to my room in CCU, I was told I might could eat dinner at 10:00 or 10:30 PM. It was 5:00 and most of the other patients were receiving dinner right then. I needed to rest, take a couple of pills and empty my bladder.

Curt had returned and was in the room shortly after I had gotten settled. I had to lay relatively flat due to the femoral artery, but I wanted to sit up and talk. Curt was getting a bit hyper about next steps and when he should make plans to return to Atlanta and when Jenny could fly to Montreal and then return home with me. We had more questions than answers. It was frustrating, but we learned that we approach situations differently and thus should not project our expectations on to others.

I was beginning to fall asleep, so, Curt headed back to the villa. And I rested.

Sacred Heart Attack – Chapter 5: Of Stents and God’s Providence

Early on Friday, one of the nurses, Lind, said that I was on the list today to have another angioplasty procedure to address the right-side artery that was 70% blocked. Dr. Lalonde had been successful in having a conversation with someone with my insurance company, and even “assigned a case number,” but there was no decision making authority given to the customer service rep. Dr. Lalonde had laid out the option of transferring me to a hospital in Atlanta if my insurance company had wanted that. Neither of us was aware that south of the border, Jenny had also spoken with the insurer and found out that they would cover my care just as if I was in the US. Sacré-Coeur Hospital was, of course, “out-of-network” but the cost of medical care was so much lower in Canada that it would prove to be a windfall for us and our insurance company.

Eventually, I decided to follow the direction and protocol of the cardiology professionals at Sacré-Coeur and do the second stent. It was like I had dropped the puck for a hockey game. Very quickly, my lunch was cancelled and preparation began for me to be taken into the pre-op area. Curt left for lunch and at 1:30 pm I was carted to what some hospital’s call the cath lab patient lounge. This is where patients who have scheduled angioplasties wait for the next available doctor to work his/her magic.

Today, I was told, there were two cardiologists doing a tag-team rotation in placing stents in overcrowded arteries and likely preventing future heart attacks. My new BFF Dr. Charron was one of the doctors in the rotation. I indicated to Lind that, everything else being equal (meaning I had no emergency), I’d prefer him since he had already seem my arteries and heart up close and personal. She said that she’d pass the word.

As I lay on the gurney, small preparations were being in a casual and unhurried fashion. Quite different from Wednesday evening. A new I-V was attached and I signed a form permitting the procedure. I had also talked with Dr. Charron and agreed to pay him with cash for his work in ostensibly saving my life and now preparing me for clear arteries for the future. Since he was an independent contractor to the hospital, and would bill me separately, the potential for him not getting paid was his concern. He had sent bills to US patients in the past and not gotten reimbursed for his time and talent. That seemed hardly fair to me and I gave him my word that I would pay him before being discharged.  I figured that was a pretty good incentive for him to do another good job. He had already explained the risk of the procedure and my only interest was in the percentage of patients who have a heart attack. He said that it was 5%. Again, if he wanted to get paid, then he better not let me be in that statistic! His professional services in doing my angiogram and angioplasty in the emergency mode was $1,800 and the planned one he was about to do was $800. Experts have told me that his $2,600 bill could’ve been $15,000 in the US.

As I laid on the bed in pre-op, I was still trying to take it all in. I was wondering when Jenny should fly to Montreal. It just seemed odd that on my, and soon Jenny’s, only visit to Montreal that I would develop chest pains and then a heart attack. Perhaps it was the connections I would make with Nathan, Paola, Gus, and Curt that were important. “That important?” I asked. Given that I was apparently going to have a heart attack at some point, was there a way to use the location of Montreal as a rallying point for others?

What is the providence of God that orchestrates details like this?

This is probably a good place to mention an example of providencial details that I’d experienced in the midst of this life event. Over the past few months, I had been reading Sabbatical Journey by Henri Nouwen. This ended up being Henri’s journal of the last year of his life on earth. About a month after he had completed his sabbatical and returned to L’Arche Daybreak near Toronto, he made a quick trip to his Dutch homeland to meet a film crew with whom he was producing a documentary. The subject of the film was the Rembrandt painting Return of the Prodigal Son that was hanging in The Hermitage in St. Petersburg, Russia and had been such a powerful image in Henri’s life. While still in Holland, Henri had a heart attack. Within a few hours, my friend Nathan Ball, who had been one of Henri’s closest and best friends for the previous 12 years and was community director of L’Arche Daybreak , was on a flight to visit Henri in the hospital. After a few difficult days, Henri’s health improved and it looked as though he was going to make a good recovery. Sadly, after a couple of good days he suffered a second heart attack and died at 64-years-old.

In the past five years, I’ve read over 30 of Henri Nouwen’s books and feel like he has been a major influence in my walk with God, family, acquaintances and friends. Nathan has been instrumental in guiding the Henri Nouwen Society and Henri’s Legacy. Nathan wrote the Afterword to Sabbatical Journey. The night before my heart attack, I shared some of my connections with Henri and the impact of his writings on my life with Nathan. I asked Nathan about that last week of Henri’s life and if Henri knew he had heart problems. Henri had not been aware of any heart problems. He talked about the ways that Henri had made commitments to slow down his activity and change his work patterns. Nathan told me about the recent radio documentary and biography that had been released in Canada. He also said that he would send me some copies of books that I might not have seen. It was a special conversation for me and one that I will cherish for a long time.

Needless to say, we had no idea what would happen the next day and that Nathan would be holding my arm as I entered the hospital. As I reflect on that 24-hour period, I’m amazed at the mercy and charity of God that gave me a gift in the midst of my loss. I will always appreciate the presence of Curt and Nathan in my very difficult situation. It was a gift from God and a picture of true community.

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.”

Sacred Heart Attack — Chapter 3: “Don’t Worry”

This is the third chapter in my journal from my heart attack in Montreal that I suffered on Wednesday January 9, 2013. The clot aspiration and angioplasty procedure to unblock my anterior pulmonary artery seems to have been successful and I’ve been moved into the Cardiac Care Unit (CCU) of Sacred Heart Hospital in Montreal. This is where we pick up my story.

“Throughout the night there were regular visits by nurses and orderlies to check my vital signs, sample my blood and make sure the I-V’s were working. Quite early in the morning on Thursday, I was greeted by a young, petite Chinese-French-Canadian woman in a crisp white jacket. She introduced herself as one of the Resident Cardiologists who would be overseeing my care. She asked me how I felt, listened to me breathe, listened to my heart beat and looked at the right side of my neck. She liked to use the word, “Perfect.” In fact, I think that was one of the favorite words of all of the doctors. So, everything was looking, eh, perfect.

She said that there were questions about my insurance and how payment might come. I’m thinking, yeah, I’m way out of network at this point! She said that hopefully they would hear from my insurance company about care and next steps. I felt vulnerable and weak. Then, she said, ‘But don’t worry, we’re going to take care of you, regardless.’

It was as if her voice and words were the voice and words of Jesus. I felt loved. I said, ‘Thank you. Thank you.’ She smiled and left my room. I went back to sleep.

During a heart attack like mine, the blood begins to back up in the vessels coming from my lungs. The extra pressure forces liquid out of my blood and into the air sacs of my lungs. If the process wasn’t stopped, I could’ve drowned in my own body fluids. So, one of the residual effects of the blockage of my artery was that there was still extra fluid in my lungs. Meds that I’m taking are helping to move that extra fluid out through urination. In the meantime, there’s a sign on the window of my room saying that my fluids are being limited. When most patients in CCU received a Big-Gulp-sized cup of iced water to start the day, I got the 8 ozs. version. Even though I had a saline drip in one of my I-V’s, I spent the next couple of days being thirsty.

So, throughout Thursday, it was BP, pulse, a paper ‘thermometer’ to check my body temperature, random EKG’s, multiple blood samples (the nurses had a port in my right arm reserved for snapping on test tubes), and the listening to and looking at my body. And most commonly followed by, from my otherwise French-speaking friends, the adjective: Perfect! I began thinking, “Really? I just had a major heart attack. How about ‘Good…, under the circumstances? Or, not terrible?’

Dr. Guy Lalonde was the chief cardiologist with oversight of my care. Every morning a couple of the resident (young) cardiologists would come to see me and then sometime later, Dr. Lalonde and “the bus” (as the nurses called the entourage of residents and a pharmacy student) would come to my room to do a more in-depth examination and discussion of how I was feeling.

Pretty soon, Dr. Lalonde began discussing the left-side artery that was approximately 70% blocked and whether I (and my insurance company) wanted to go ahead and put a stent in it on Friday. My inclination was to go ahead with that course of action since that would be the standard protocol with patients in my condition. Since Canada has a national health insurance program, this huge hospital didn’t have lots of billing and insurance specialists. Dr. Lalonde was making calls to and being put on hold by my healthcare insurance provider himself!

It was a strange feeling being in limbo. Would I be transferred by medical transport to another hospital in Atlanta? Would I stay in Montreal for a few more days or weeks? And at this point, none of my family back in Atlanta, Chattanooga, Birmingham, Dayton or Dallas, knew I was even in the hospital! Wow!

Curt Armstrong; executive director of L’Arche Atlanta, my friend and fundraising partner over the past few years; was the first familiar face that afternoon. It was great to see him and he brought a card full of messages from the 50 L’Arche USA and Canada retreat participants that I had been a part of that week at Villa Saint-Martin in North Montreal. Curt said that during the morning small group time, the conference had shared a time of corporate reflection and prayer for me.

News of the prayer time and the messages on the card were a powerful witness to me that the Body of Christ was present and that my fellowship was not broken by my absence.

We had been scheduled to fly home to Atlanta on Thursday afternoon at the workshop’s conclusion. Curt had ridden to the airport with Nathan and canceled our flight with Delta. Curt was going to stay on for a couple of days until we had a sense of how long I’d be in the hospital and when Jenny would be able to arrive in Montreal. It was a comfort to have Curt there and I was able to shed a tear or two as I was moving out of shock and the reality of my heart attack was catching up with me.”

 

 

 

Sacred Heart Attack — Chapter 2: Wide Awake

In the previous post, I shared the beginnings of my experience as a heart attack patient in the ER of a large trauma center hospital in North Montreal, QC, Canada. You can go back and read the first four paragraphs to get the setting. Here’s what happened next.

“A young man in medical scrubs asked me to open my mouth. He, then, sprayed Nitroglycerin into my mouth to hopefully dilate my arteries. A woman pushed a needle into my arm to start an I-V. The Nitro sprayer guy asked if I was feeling any better. I said, ‘No.’

Another woman with a long needle asked if I had any allergies, wiped my belly with alcohol, then punctured the skin to quickly thin my blood. I didn’t even feel the needle.

Soon, I was rolling to the Operating Room. It was colder and I was now completely naked except for my watch, my hipster glasses and a blue HSCM I.D. bracelet #13308614. Two kind people lifted me by the sheet under me and transferred me to the O.R. table.

One nurse was shaving my groin area and my right wrist so that the doctor would have both options for doing the impending angiogram. Another lady was adding another I-V and taping the O2 monitor to my left index finger. Lying completely flat on a metal table is not comfortable, but the pain in my chest was relentless. Shortly, the Nitro sprayer guy came back with a cup with about 6 pills in it. He held my head as I swallowed them and chased the brown round pills with a small amount of water. He said that they were for the pain that I had earlier indicated was a 10 on a scale of 1-10 with 10 being, “I think I’m going to die.”

If I was trying to take a breath and see if the pills worked hoping the pain would subside, then what happened next made sure I was wide awake. A female nurse said, ‘This is going to be cold.” She then began to “paint” a slushy-like mixture of Iodine and alcohol (and ice shavings) all over my stomach, waist, groin, upper thighs and, then, my right wrist. Her warning about the cold was an understatement, but, relatively speaking, not a problem. That was followed by fabric adhering to my skin and paper being spread over most of my body.

Someone then put what looked like a clear plastic shower cap over a shoe-boxed-size white ceramic device that hovered just a few inches above my head.

Dr. Thierry Charron soon introduced himself and said that he was going to find the clot and unblock my artery. He seemed energetic, enthusiastic and eager. I thanked him and he proceeded to make a small incision on the inside of my right wrist. My wrist was clamped and bound tight to the table.

Next, I felt a tube being inserted into my arm and soon the ceramic shoe-box above my head began to move this way and that at odd angles. I began to figure that it had something to do with the artery study. This was the x-ray machine that captured photos of my arteries as dye was injected into the tube showing where the blockage was.

There was lots of talking (in French, of course) and yelling from one part of the room to the other. On my left was a multi-screen digital display and at my knee area was a small box/monitor that Dr. Charron and another physician were using.

A few days later, Dr. Charron told me that he had difficulty getting to the blockage because a couple of arteries were crossed. On his third and final attempt he was successful. Had he failed, he would’ve moved to open-heart surgery. In emergency situations with a heart attack that had been going on for a 3-4 hours, doing open-heart procedure is much more high risk and things can go wrong.

So, another aspect of the evening of January 9, 2013, for which to be thankful.

After sometime, perhaps 30-40 minutes into the procedure, the pain on my heart got worse. Even though I had told the triage nurse that pain was a ‘10’, I would now edit that to a ‘9’ and now it was a ‘10’. I wondered what was going on, but could barely speak. I began to move my head back and forth and hoped that someone would see. Right about then, Dr. Charron said that he was close to being finished. ‘It still hurts,’ I said. At that point, he was positioning the stent for expansion and for a few seconds the artery was blocked even more and under pressure.

He said that it would be better soon. I know the Holy Spirit was present more by situation than by feeling or sense. All of these caring and highly trained people were focused on one task — saving Jimmy Locklear. Surely, that is a place where the Spirit is at home.

As Dr. Charron was completing the process of unblocking the IVA that was 100% blocked, he tells me that this was a ‘big one’. He said that another artery on the right side was 70% blocked and normally he would want to put a stent in that one on Friday. Subsequently, he showed me line drawings of both arteries. At that point, it had not sunk in how serious this was. It was my only heart attack experience, so, the severity angle was hard for me to grasp since I had nothing to compare it to.

Removing the catheter tube was a bit challenging. At one point, Dr. Charron expressed frustration when he had to pull so hard and ended up making a small scratch on my wrist. It was no big deal to me, but professional pride probably was in play here. During my recovery, a couple of the nurses were surprised by the scratch that was encased in clear tape.

While still in the O.R. I could feel a lessening of the pain, but a couple of the medical staff seemed surprised when I indicated that it was still a 5 or 6 on the pain scale.

I was transferred to another gurney and a large oxygen mask was now covering my mouth and nose. A couple of folks wheeled me past Nathan and Curt on my way to the Cardiac Care Unit. I was rolled into room #9 and lifted on to the bed. That was a bit of a process to rehang bags feeding my I-V and monitors and cables that had to be secured in my new space. Curt and Nathan were allowed to come into my room for about two minutes as long as I didn’t talk. Nathan rubbed my forehead and smoothed my hair and marked the sign of the Cross on my forehead with his finger. Curt prayed for me and said that he had left a message for Jenny and he would see me tomorrow.”

A day that I will never forget was coming to a close. I was still struggling to take in what had just happened. I knew that my mind and emotions had not caught up with my physical self. There would be plenty of time for that tomorrow.

Sacred Heart Attack — Chapter 1: Winning the Lottery

Ever since surviving my heart attack on January 9, 2013, I’ve thought that my first post would have the above title. As someone who had too often thought about what it would feel like to win a lot of money and be somehow more “free” or less stressed about life, I thought that this is perhaps a similar feeling. I’ve written about 40 pages of recollections from the seven days that began on the 9th in Montreal, QC, Canada and ended with my flying home to Atlanta, GA, USA on the 15th.  I’m only going to share a couple of vignettes in this first post. Hopefully, they are as profound to you as they are to me.

“Shortly, a triage nurse motioned for me to enter her office. It seemed like she quickly assessed what was happening. I handed her my passport, insurance card and a few medicine bottles I had in a plastic bag. She asked if it was okay for Curt and Nathan (friends who had brought me to the ER at Sacred Heart Hospital of Montreal) to complete the paperwork. I said, ‘yes.’ And she said, ‘You come with me!’

We stepped into a larger area with a raised platform in front and lots of activity. Dr. Garner asked me to describe my pain and how long it had been going on. After a couple of diagnostics (EKG, PB, etc.), he asked me to get undressed and lay down on the gurney. Shortly, Dr. Garner said, ‘I’m sorry to say you are having a heart attack, probably from a blood clot. We’re going to try to find it. You should’ve come in earlier.’

I had been having chest pains pretty steadily since about 3:00 PM. It was now about 6:00 PM. I had no idea that the artery that was 100% blocked was the primary delivery artery of blood and oxygen to my body. I was experiencing Acute Anterior Wall STEMI or Anterior Myocardial Infarction that results from occlusion of the left anterior descending artery. A major heart attack. Pure and simple. Minutes mattered and I was about 3 hours into it.

I was stunned, but not really surprised at that point. What else could it be? I had tried to address occasional chest pain for a couple of days as symptoms of esophageal reflux.”

More on what happened next, in a future post…

Here’s the other vignette I wanted to share as the cardiologist who performed the angiogram and angioplasty on me that night shared a few days later.

“The hospital discharge process started late morning on Monday the 14th. My wife Jenny, son Jameson and friend Gus had arrived around 10:30 AM. Dr. Charron came by to pick up his payment in cash that Jenny had brought. I was grateful that Jenny and Jameson got to meet him. He was a late 30s high-energy guy who reminded me of musician and band leader Paul Shaffer. It was during our visit that morning that I learned of the difficulty he had reaching the blockage on Wednesday. He said that a couple of arteries were crossed and he was successful when making a final effort to reach the blockage before resorting to cutting open my chest and doing the surgery from that perspective. He said that doing open heart surgery in emergency situations like mine don’t turn out well. It was not what he wanted to do.

I became even more thankful for the mercy of God, the prayers of His people and the skill and persistence of Dr. Charron and his associates.”

We don’t often learn of the ways God and His angels have protected us or saved us. So, being made aware of our closeness to death is an awareness that makes more precious all of the people and creation around us. I think it is better than winning the lottery.

To be continued…

Epic Thanksgiving

A Family Gathering

When the extended family gathers for holidays or weddings or other special events, there is great expectation and not a little anxiety about how we’ll all get along. For a couple of years, we have had the privilege of hosting family for the Thanksgiving Day Meal. Last year, we were comforted by each other’s presence as my wife and brother-in-law had lost their father and mother in the period of five months. We circled, held hands and gave thanks prior to the meal and felt God’s gentle presence. Most shed a tear or two as we thanked God for the love of parents, in-laws, grandparents and friends.

Prior to this year’s gathering, I sent an email suggesting a pot-luck-ish menu and provided a preview of what I’d like for us to do with our time after the meal. As a way to expand the simple “what am I thankful for this year”, I suggested we share something we are thankful for from each decade of our lives. There were a couple of jokes in the replies about those of us who would be telling stories that would bore the more youthful, but I didn’t know what to expect.

There were 20 of us who ate together on November 22nd ranging in age from 22-80. As we progressed through the meal and moved to dessert, I reminded folks of the multi-decade thanksgiving exercise and that we should probably start. My sister-in-law and brother set the early tone. They had worked on their lists and began to share deep heartfelt stories of growing up, friendships, love, children, challenges and victories. They confessed before all of us their love for each other and for us. Next, my Mother chimed in with some of the stories of her life. Wow, this is on! Folks were sharing their life stories with laughter and tears and “you may not have heard this before…” and so on.

After only a few had shared, it was obvious that this was a special and powerful time. Not to be forgotten. The friendship, love and support or our family was affirmed repeatedly.

There was in just about every story times of challenge and difficulty that in retrospect were times that we were now thankful for and could see God’s hand in. From the oldest to the youngest, everyone had a powerful story to share. My youngest son, 22, shared about his life now in another city and the happiness of being able to ride the public transit bus to his job he enjoyed each day and to go shopping, to a movie or to a concert with friends. Things that weren’t even dreams five years ago.

In Proverbs 17 we read that a cheerful or merry heart is good medicine. I can testify that our time of giving thanks through the stories of our lives was very good medicine as our hearts were cheered. As you gather with family and friends during the holidays and listen to the story of Jesus’ incarnation, listen too for echoes in the stories of your family. And give thanks; it’ll do your heart good.

“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.

 

 

Mind Game: hiding behind words

Have you ever considered how you’ve come to view prayer and how you actually pray? When I hear Jesus talking about prayer and observe the glimpses that we see in the Gospels of the New Testament, I wonder if what we so often do is the same as the prayer Jesus is talking about. The most common thread to his prayer life is solitude. We don’t do much of that. And he seems to suggest the best approach for us. “Go into your closet and close the door so no one can see,” he told us.

“And, by the way, your Heavenly Father already knows what you need, so, don’t be long-winded and repetitive,” he said.

One of the attacks of evil is making us think that prayer is primarily of the mind – “speaking with God” or “thinking about God” or “talking to God.” We have placed such a high value on mastering the world through the intellect that our view of prayer has evolved into a mind game with God. Some how we have gotten the idea that the theological correctness or the order of our prayers is really, really important. I can almost hear Jesus say, “my dear children, speak from your heart.”

Reading a prayer that someone else has written is perhaps helpful at times to help us put words to our feelings, but at some point we have to go “off script” and improvise from how we are really feeling and what we are desiring. In order for us to freely do that we must know deeply that we are beloved of God.

Perhaps we should all take as our nickname – Jedidiah! The name means “loved by God” or “beloved of God.” We named our third son Jedidiah the day after he was born. We searched for another “J” name and discovered a great story and truth from the life of King David. Here’s the scripture reference from 2 Samuel chapter 12:

24 Then David comforted his wife Bathsheba, and he went to her and made love to her. She gave birth to a son, and they named him Solomon. The Lord loved him; 25 and because the Lord loved him, he sent word through Nathan the prophet to name him Jedidiah.

Unless we hear the voice of God calling to us in love, we will try to hide behind the “right words” and the correct theology when we sit in his presence or come to him in prayer. You may come to him thinking you are Jack or Sylvia, but remember that God has given you a nickname – Beloved! And he wants to hear the simple or the sophisticated words from you. Not the formulaic or repetitious, but the dialogue of your heart. He is there. He is near.

 

There’s A Story In You

Over the past five years, I’ve come to understand that the arc of life or rather the arc of eternity is a grand story. In The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien, a story unfolds of a young man who was chosen to play a significant part in a very large story. The story is captivating and millions have read and viewed that story many times over. We resonate with that story and feel some kinship to Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee and their amazing journey. We hurt with them and cheer for them as they overcome obstacles and fight for their lives and the lives of those in their homeland and beyond.

Do you ever feel like there’s a story that’s bigger than your personal journey, but you’re not sure who’s writing it or what part you are playing? If you answered in the affirmative, then, welcome to the human race! You are a man or woman created for beauty, strength, love and adventure.

Your question is not new. In the Ancient Near East, the great King Solomon asked the same question. He asked many questions, but perhaps his most profound or powerful question and observation was recorded in the book called Ecclesisates. You’ve probably heard parts of this book read or even sung. The early 60s rock band The Byrds recorded the song Turn! Turn! Turn! in 1965 that drew heavily on Solomon’s writing about the seasons of life. They sang from the third chapter of Ecclesiastes about “a time to plant and a time to uproot, … a time to weep and a time to laugh,” and their lyrics rang true. Many of us have experienced those times.

A further reading of that same chapter finds these words:

God has made everything appropriate in its time. He has also put eternity in their hearts, but man cannot discover the work God has done from beginning to end. (Eccl. 3:11)

It is a fascinating read. The insight that Solomon brings as he describes God’s relationship to his creation and, especially, people is profound in every phrase. So, there is a grand story in our hearts. Put there by our Creator God. What difference does that make? So what?

Solomon says that this sense of a Larger Story was put in our hearts by God. And that we don’t know the end of the story from the beginning. If you read further in the same paragraph, Solomon suggests that there are recurring themes or vignettes that makes it more confusing.

We end up looking for validation on our part of the story. We look for a script or a piece of the script that might show us where to stand or what to say. Solomon says that with that “eternity” comes a burden to search for our part to play. Otherwise, it’s all meaningless. And without meaning and understanding our essence and living in that essence, we begin to die.

Alas, there is hope. Our creator and author still lives and wants to have a relationship with all of humanity. You and me, too. So, we take our question to God. We ask him what our part in his story is and, then, … we listen.

And it is a captivating story. This is going to be good. I’m in this Act! And you are, too.