Hannah Update

It's Thursday night. As I type this I am sitting in my daughter's hospital room watching her sleep. The past couple of days have been rough. The large eight inch scar curling it's way across the left side of her head is healing nicely, although it will ever stand as a reminder of her ordeal. The drainage tube that was in her head after the surgery on Tuesday was removed today, an event that brought not a few tears due to the discomfort. Morphine destroyed the pain but a new enemy has reared it's ugly, if not unexpected, head: Hannah came down with a fever this morning that has only gotten worse as the day has worn on. The risk of infection has always been present. Now we are increasingly concerned. The staff here at Saint Christopher's Hospital for Children are watching her closely. As with everything else, we wait and pray.

What can we do in life when we can't do anything? How do we handle it when what we need to handle is beyond our ability? This whole experience with Hannah's epilepsy and surgery and follow-up is so big, such a large impossibility, that her mother and I find ourselves overwhelmed by the sheer size of both the reality and the "what if's". We have no choice but to lean on Y'shua (Jesus) and remember that Hannah, as all of us, are in His hands of mercy and justice. We pray, we wait, we try to keep the rest of the family going, and we surrender, every day, sometimes every hour of every day, to the Lord. He is bigger than our biggest challenge and stronger than our impossibilities. I know most of you know this but I, for one, am grateful for the reminder.

I'll keep you posted.

Hannah Update

It's Tuesday again. A week ago Hannah finished her first surgery, miraculously coming through with flying colors. This morning she is scheduled for her second surgery. She will have part of her left temporal lobe in her brain removed, the part, we hope, that is responsible for her seizures. If everything goes well, she will be seizure-free for the rest of her life.

I spent last night with her at the hospital. Mom and I have been taking turns, essentially each rotating through every other night, sleeping in those notoriously uncomfortable hospital chairs and subsisting on hospital food, trying to be there for her while balancing time with the boys at home. This is a dance we have done before. I recall the time Hannah was hospitalized for three months in 2004 also because of her epilepsy.

As I write this from that plastic-covered chair Hannah sleeps, any apprehension she might have about this second procedure hidden in the bliss of unconsciousness. IV tubes and heart-monitoring wires snake their way away from her body to machines on the wall reducing her life-signs to bouncing colored lines and persistent electric blips. Her head is still wrapped lightly in gauze to cover the wires from the internal monitoring strips coming out of her brain. These will be removed today in the course of the surgery.

It's interesting to me how self-absorbed health issues can make us. During the past week that Hannah has been here I have focused heavily on her and our family. I have done no synagogue work whatsoever. Thank God for our assistant rabbi who has kept the congregation running during my physical and emotional absence. He's a good man. Meanwhile my immediate family has contracted, if you will. We have moved closer to each other to offer support during this time of need. Even Hannah's little brothers, usually a source of constant irritation to her, have offered their stuffed animals to their big sister. Their sudden kindness and concern for Hannah was a bit unexpected but certainly welcome.

Our larger family, the local Body of Messiah, has also moved toward us with support, meals, and prayers. We are daily humbled by the kindness, shown in so many practical ways, from dear brothers and sisters in the faith. I wish I could somehow repay each person for their generosity but I know that will be impossible.

Most of all God Himself has been good to us during this time. He has so obviously been with us during Hannah's previous procedure, during the ensuing week-long hospital stay, and I know He is present even as I type this, preparing us for today's rigors. I am also reminded that He loves my daughter more than I. He doesn't guarantee that everything will turn out as we hope, but He does promise to be with us through it all.

I'll update you later today after her surgery.

Hannah Update

Shalom everyone.

Hannah went into surgery on Tuesday, June 14th.  We showed up at the hospital at 6:00 am and went through the typical preparations:  registration, last-minute tests, and endless questions about allergies and medications.  Hannah changed into those famous hospital gowns, the kind that are always a bit drafty in back, and was given some Versed to calm her down.  Two hours later she was wheeled into the operating room.  Vickie and I said goodbye and, after a healthy dose of laughing gas (and the ensuing burst of giggling that erupted from my daughter), the procedure began.  The operating room team called us every hour with updates.  "Things are going fine."  "She is doing great."  "She is stable."  Easy for them to say.  It's not their daughter.

After six troubling hours Hannah was wheeled into recovery, then moved to CT for a scan, then sent to ICU which has become her home away from home for the next couple of weeks.  She has multiple small metal probes wrapped around parts of her brain.  These probes should delicately detect the slightest seizure which, in turn, should reveal which parts of her brain to remove during her next surgery, said surgery being about a week or so away.  

Words cannot adequately express my thoughts and emotions watching my daughter slumber fitfully after coming out of surgery.  Her eyes were heavy.  Her head was wrapped in a turban-like bandage covering the broken places in her skull where foreign plastic and metal probes monitored her every brain blip and wave.  I wanted to scoop her up like she was two years old again and hold her tightly, promising that dad would make the boo-boo go away.  But she's not two years old anymore and this was no simple boo-boo.  When did my liebchen become a young lady?  And when did the trauma and terror of life interfere with the warm and loving world that her mom and I tried to create for her?  

It's not even really about "fairness".  Is it "fair" for my princess to suffer as she is right now?  Is it "fair" for our family to be going through this during such a time of transition and change at home and work?  Is it "fair" for my three sons to feel a bit put-out because big sister is getting all of the attention?  As difficult as it is for us to accept sometimes life is rarely, if ever, "fair".  We roll with the punches and begin to learn that bad things happen to good people and good things often happen to bad.  But, if we are honest, even God isn't really "fair", is He?  I mean, really, is it "fair" that Y'shua (Jesus) should suffer and die for our sins?  Not really very fair to Y'shua, yet He willingly did it for all of us.

So I have stopped asking questions that often have no answers and instead am learning to accept, with God's grace, the full sphere of human experience, not just the good.  I don't know what will happen to my daughter Hannah but I do know this:  God, and God alone, is the only unchanging and certain thing in life.  Though He slay me yet will I trust in Him (Job 13:15).

I will keep you posted.

I'm afraid

As I get older I've begun to notice that life rarely comes at us at an even pace, a smooth series of events that we can handle as they march toward us in orderly succession.  I've learned instead that life seems to happen in chaotic bursts, sudden explosions of reality that, good or bad, rain upon us like machine gun fire interspersed by brief periods of uneasy peace. 

My thirteen year old daughter has suffered from epilepsy for seven years.  After truck-loads of medicine and a small army of doctors from multiple disciplines, we have arrived at the truth that her only natural hope is surgery.  So this coming Tuesday morning, June 14th, my only daughter is going to the local children's hospital to have both sides of her skull cut open and parts of her brain examined, monitered, then excised.

Now I know that thousands of children and parents have walked down this path before and come out far better for it.  I know that I should be grateful that things are not worse than they are.  I know that I should be counting my blessings.  As a rabbi I am reminded, also, that God is near, that we are not going through this alone, and that everything will eventually work out for His higher good purposes and will.  I know all of these things are true.

But I'm still scared.  Is that wrong?

I'm scared that things may not go as smoothly as they should.  I'm scared she may die, or have a stroke, or become profoundly disabled.  I'm scared that the surgery may make her already violent seizures worse.  I'm scared that her follow-up care may be compromised because of our impending move to Kansas.  I'm scared that the cost her care may spiral rapidly out of control and swallow our family financially.

The current religious climate in Western culture often dictates that we should not be people of fear and, to an extant, that is true.  I firmly believe that we should never let fear become either our sole or primary motivation for anything.  I'm also learning, though, that fear is a reality with which we all must cope, a companion that, at inadvertent (and usually inconvenient) times crops up and demands our attention.  I'm learning that God will always help us deal with fear but He may not always take it away.

I must go now.  I'll keep you posted.

Isaiah 58:12

We had our annual synagogue business meeting this past Sunday.  Although such meetings tend to be dry by nature, I have to confess that this one seemed to go pretty well, generally speaking.  Among other things, we voted to move our Erev Shabbat (Friday evening) service time to 8:00 pm, allowing people more time to get home from work and take care of their families before service begins.  We still plan on ending no later than 9:30 pm.  

Also at this meeting I introduced the theme I believe God has given us for 2011.  This year we are to focus on "repairing the breach and restoring paths to rest in" as found in Isaiah 58:12.  What does this mean? 

 A breach is a hole.  Well, it's more than a hole.  It's a violation.  A breach is an unhealthy, unintended break in the integrity of a wall.  There are healthy, intended breaks in walls.  We call these doors and windows.  But when a break occurs where there should be none, this is trouble.  Breaches let in the unwelcome rain and wind.  Breaches can let in bugs and pests of all kinds.  Thinking of walls that used to surround cities, breaches can even let in the enemy and result in the fall of an entire society.  

 To restore a breach means to return to the original foundation, the strong, immovable foundation, laid by Sacred Hands.  To restore a breach means to build upon this foundation with stones that will be able to endure the offense of the seasons and the assault of the enemy.  These stones must be excavated from the earth, chiseled and shaped, and laid in place with much forethought and care.  It requires planning, patience, persistence, and people.

Ah, there's the clincher!  People!  This wall cannot be made by one or two people alone.  If it is to be a strong bastion, a fortress that will resist all that will eventually come against it, it will require a coordinated, prayer-saturated, hard-headed, soft-hearted group of men and women and youth who are willing to work together, forgive each other, and roll-up their collective sleeves.  This effort, to be successful, will need to be supervised by God, led by His Spirit, and coordinated by His appointed leadership.  It will require, from everyone, humility, courage, and LOTS of grace!  The task that lay before us is for neither the weak-hearted nor for those who can't quite seem to make a commitment.

The question before us now is:  can we do it?  Can we pull together and meet this call?  I believe so.  The deeper question is, do you?

On my next blog I'll talk about what it means to "restore paths to rest in".  If you have any questions at all, please feel free to contact me at phillyrabbi@gmail.com.  Shalom!

And it's raining, and it's raining . . . .

I've noticed something.  Ever since I've started to focus more on prayer and personal brokenness before the Lord something extraordinary, though not quite surprising, has happened:

All hell has broken loose.

I'm not talking about going through a "rough patch" in my life.  I'm talking about literally the demonic forces of the devil rising against me.

They say misery loves company so I hope you will forgive me as I indulge in a litany of events that have come against my family and ministry in the past thirty days:

- Pipe busted in the synagogue fellowship hall, ruining walls and carpet
- Pipe busted under the house where we live, spewing sewage and mud into the house
- Our personal laptop computer died, the very computer we use to broadcast ministry via the Internet
- Our refrigerator at home died, requiring costly repairs which drained our personal account
- My daughter has had a significant and dramatic increase in seizure activity.  She suffers from epilepsy.
- And there's more which time does not permit me to list here.

Please don't misunderstand me.  I am not a superstitious person and I do not look for a demon under every doily.  I have, however, noted an interesting pattern of events in my life since I started to draw closer to the Lord. 

I believe that the devil is remarkably predictable and, if it weren't so painful, his actions and behavior would be almost laughable.  Of course!    I should have expected this and, with God's wisdom, prepared for it!  Of course the devil will attack when we try to draw closer to God!  Of course Satan will try to distract and discourage when we turn our hearts and minds to prayer!  Of course the enemy of our souls will try to bring depression and despair when we lift our spirits to heaven!  Of course!

Why?

Because there is no greater expression of power for a believer on this earth than prayer.  Prayer unleashes God's Spirit.  Prayer brings reformation of our hearts and revival to our congregations.  Prayer strengthens our spirits and deepens our communion with our Creator.  Pray, true prayer, is the single fiercest force we as God's people have against Satan and his angels in this world.  This is why the devil resists us with such tenacity for, while we as God's people may be nonchalant and non-committed in prayer, the devil understands the true power of prayer and trembles!  This is why he begins to rise against us with all that is in his unholy arsenal, because he's scared!

What should be our response when things in our lives begin to fall apart?  Pray!  Storm the gates of Heaven with our supplications!  Intercede on behalf of God's people and those who do not yet know Him!  There is a reason this is called a war, because it is!  Fight!  Dearly beloved, fight with all you're worth!  Don't allow discouragement or cynicism to rob you of prayer!  Repent and pray!  Lift your head from your discouragement and pray!  Mourn and weep before the Lord and pray!  Rejoice before the God of Abraham and pray!  When the sun shines, pray!  When the rain falls, pray!  When you seem to get no answer, pray!  When God feels a million miles away, pray!  Without ceasing, pray (I Thessalonians 5:17) for then and only then will we begin to know a deeper measure of God's power and freedom.

Pray!

When it rains . . . .

A few weeks ago I was doing laundry at home (yes, I help my wife with the laundry. So lives the 21st century man). When the washing machine started draining, a pungent odor began to assail my nose, a combination of wet earth and sewage. A quick inspection revealed this thick stew bubbling up into the bathtub and kitchen sink. Indeed, from that point on, every time we tried to do the laundry, this foul fountain would reappear, filling the house with it's damp stench. After bringing out a plumber we were told that the source of our problem was a busted drainage pipe under the slab foundation of the house. Even as he spoke on and on in complex plumbing jargon that I barely understood, a sense of panic began to rise in me. "This sounds expensive." I thought to myself. My mind began to wander along these lines when I snapped back into reality with his words "$15,000-$30,000".

What?

Please understand that my family and I live in a small residence attached to the synagogue where I serve. I immediately called the synagogue insurance company. "I'm sorry Rabbi Fuller but we don't cover plumbing problems outside of the building which includes things under the foundation." Panic time again.

A few days later I was walking into the synagogue when I was greeted by undulating waves of water gently flowing out of the fellowship room, through the hallway and into the foyer where the sixth great lake was rapidly forming. The culprit ended up being a blown pipe which, after much wrestling with the powerful spray and fumbling with a shut-off valve, I was able to turn off. I rushed out and borrowed a large wet-vac from a friend and, while my wife was trying to suck Lake Michigan into a plastic barrel, I was once again on the phone with our insurance company. Turns out they WILL cover this one.

When things like this go wrong, there is a temptation for us to turn to God and ask "why". God is all-powerful, right? He could make the pipes in our aging building work just fine if He so desires. Yet, instead of Divine intervention we immediately assume Divine neglect. I don't believe that such an assumption is fair. We so frequently cry out to God for justice when it is often us who are guilty of being unfair to God. When the sun is shining on our lives we casually thank God and go our way. When a little rain falls (or stinky water flows) we rapidly point our finger at Him and wonder why He hasn't been doing what we perceive to be His job.

God is God. He is not as interested in our comfort as He is in our completion.  He is truly in charge of all things and if we are experiencing challenges of any kind it would behoove us to remember that there is a reason for the suffering not the least of which is to provide us an opportunity to grow in Him. True, such knowledge may be of little comfort, but it is truth nonetheless. It's also good to know that the rain never falls forever. Eventually, the sun will come out and the clean-up begins. Thank You, God.

Now, I hope you'll excuse me. I have some cleaning to do.