The Beginning

“Well, he ain’t dead yet.”

That’s how Wayne wants me to begin every post. Perhaps the rest of us are experiencing a “shocked and slightly embarrassed at the sight of each other in a towel” moment, but I decided, in the end, that I ought to humor him at least this once. And the more I thought about the phrase, the more I realized it really does kind of sum up the past few weeks. There is the scent of death in the air, a heightened awareness of its looming presence, of the precious nature of each passing moment. And there is sarcastic humor—lots of it—being that Wayne is the one at the center of the stage. Things like, “Well, maybe now you’ll get your heart’s desire: maybe I will become an intellectual—because that’s all I’ll be able to do.”

As many of you know, I do live in my head. Thinking lofty thoughts is one of my greatest aspirations. Years ago, when we were newly married, Wayne and I had a conversation about what it would be like to be a quadriplegic. My position was—staunchly propounded—that there could be worse. Much worse. At least I would still be who I am, unlike in a situation like dementia or Alzheimer’s disease. Wayne disagreed, one thousand percent. He said that losing the use of his arms and legs would render him a completely different human, that he wouldn’t even know who that person would be. And now, he is losing the use of his arms and legs. We could never have imagined this, and no, I do not look forward to him “becoming an intellectual”, but only wish, for his sake and for all of ours, that he could inhabit the Wayne-ness we have all known for all these years. That when a jar is too hard for me to open, that I could again hand it to him, knowing that he is stronger than me and can do the things that I cannot do.

A dear friend recently shared her thoughts on Wayne’s loss of strength. She saw his physical strength so diminished. Out of almost anyone she knew, it seemed like it would be the hardest for Wayne to lose physical strength, because it is so much the essence of who he is. The very thing he depends upon and counts on as himself has been taken away. But then she said that she realized he is actually gaining in real strength. His character, his spirit, his will, have never been stronger. His faith is building muscle every day, faith in a God who walks beside us in this and in all our griefs. He is exercising in a whole new way, becoming stronger than he has ever been before.

And in a way, this blog is my exercise of faith. I want to document all the stories—and there are already so many. I want to remember, for myself, for my children, for Wayne, and for you, rehearsing God’s faithfulness and goodness and mercy out loud, over and over and over again, because He has proven Himself faithful and good, over and over and over again. I want to share with you the ups and the downs, the day-to-day struggles and the sublime moments, the hardest things and the happiest days. We want to share.

Many of you are probably wondering about our day-to-day, how life has changed and is changing, what the next steps are, and so on. This will be a way for me to make sure to keep everyone abreast of the developments. I am sure I have already repeated myself sometimes and neglected at other times to relay vital information. Through these posts, all the updates will be available, as much as I can keep up. But please, also, do not hesitate to reach out with your thoughts and questions; we do not mind talking about our experience, most of the time, and will pull back if and when we need space. So many have also offered tangible, physical help, which will be needed soon, I am sure. In the meantime, please pray for all of us. We are blown away by our community; our hearts are open to you. Thank you all, so, so very much for how you have already surrounded us with the love of Jesus. We look forward to what is to come.