So many private tears as I've helplessly watched my Superman suffer. Suffering that feels unfair and unjust. I've spent days and weeks pleading for guidance .
Finally a simple thought. Send a letter to the doctor....
I searched for an email and couldn't find one. No send a letter, the old fashion way...
I spent a thoughtful few hours composing my concerns in letter form. One page conveying my deepest heartache. Will I be heard?
I hung onto the letter for a day and then dropped it at the post office. I waited and wondered over the long weekend, praying I'd done the right thing. You can't un-send snail mail...
Our bishop stopped by over the weekend to give us the sacrament, something I hadn't really thought about, but I was grateful for a bishop who saw a need...
The Bishop arrived in shirt and tie and freshly washed hands and a sacrament tray. Grant was sitting on the couch a spot he had barely moved from in weeks, or is it months? He was in an old t shirt and sweat pants, paint stains and holes and all. Our bishop and I chatted for a few minutes and Grant hardly said a word, lost in his own world.
It was time to administer the sacrament. "So do you want to bless the water, if I bless the bread? " our bishop said without hesitation. The invitation floored me for a split moment. as did Grant's "Well okay." We took the bread in the otherwise empty sacrament tray. And our bishop handed Grant his phone with the sacrament prayers cued, reference, if needed...
Grant's voice was clear but humble as he began the prayer....The spirit flooded our living room and I struggled to keep back my tears as I was reminded that no matter how sick my sweet Superman is he still is a worthy priesthood holder and that his spirit is NOT mentally.
Gratitude also flooded my heart for a bishop who saw past what I was unable to in the moment and extended a sacred invitation.
From that moment the constant prayer in my heart for the next several days was that Grant's doctor would hear me through that letter, I had dropped in the mailbox....
I was so concerned for my Superman as the severity of what I was witnessing was impossible to deny.
They got the letter the same day some pandemic restrictions allowing in person visits. The receptionist called me the minute the letter arrived...
I was told I didn’t have to put on a brave face anymore and I was totally allowed to ugly cry if I needed to. She offered Grant an in person appointment a day and spent the next several minutes talking about caregiver burn out and how hard it is, making she I was ok. Kindness I so needed.
Grant's doctor showed the same kindness. We spent an entire hour talking about some of life's darkest moments in the safety and dignity of understanding and compassion. Tough decisions, but a path forward was chosen.
I left that office with no doubt that his psychiatrist was inspired and truly cared. The road ahead is uncertain but we have help.
Our church family reached out with several acts of service in the week that followed and I felt a renewed courage and care.
A few dear friends listened for hours when I just needed to get it out....
A treasured gift came Sunday morning when a dear, talented, yet humble friend sent my three favourite hymns she had so beautifully sung.....
I've listed to these on repeat this week and each one have solace and a reminder that ....
He lives to guide me with his eye.
He lives to comfort me when faint.
He lives to hear my soul's complaint.
He lives to silence all my fears.
He lives to wipe away my tears.
He lives to calm my troubled heart.
He lives all blessings to impart.
Grant will deal with mental illness for the rest of his life, but our struggle is known to our heavenly father and it is through others that he makes sure we are cared for and loved, I am forever grateful for these angels on earth.
0 comments:
Post a Comment