In July 2003 Lucy and I discussed the idea of moving. We lived in what used to be an old school house in Shenandoah, Ohio, about six miles north of Mansfield. Her niece, suggested that we could all buy a house together, she with her husband and new-born son, and we could all live in the same house. I had in mind a house that would be out of town but near the main interstates somewhere. Lucy’s niece found a house and we investigated, and then gave $500 to hold the sale.
That night I dreamt I was in the back seat of a car and saying, “Why am I in the back seat? Why am I in the back seat?” I knew I was dreaming, and I was sure that what I was seeing meant something significant.
In the front seat were three figures; a young man in the driver’s seat, a woman close beside him and a boy of what I thought to be three or four years old, sitting in the seat on the passenger side. I did not see their faces.
Then the scene changed. A man and woman were in the front seat, in the driver’s seat. Suddenly we came to an intersection, and crashed. I knew that the people in the dream represented the five of us. There were no faces, but the back of the head of the boy, Nathan, was plainly seen from my vantage point.
I woke up and was depressed for days. Do I take a dream seriously? Do I forget the whole thing? Do I abandon buying the house? What does it mean to be in the back seat? Actually, I knew what it meant, but what about the crash? These all played on my mind for days and I didn’t feel too good about it. Based on my estimated age of the boy in the dream, I figured nothing would happen for awhile. Nathan was now eight months old.
Meanwhile, we bought the house. It was at the intersection of two major highways outside of town. Lucy and I were on one side of the house. The others on the other side which they would renovate.
Later, when both parents were working, Nathan was our responsibility to babysit. Once in awhile when I noticed the back of his head, I remembered the dream. And he grew rather tall for his age.
The year 2004 rolled around. I was developing a soreness in my ankle that wouldn’t go away. When I went to work it was often difficult walking. In April, it became so difficult that I went to my boss and told him I was going to the ER, I might not be back for awhile, or ever. I called my family doctor and told him what I was going to do, and then went to the Emergency Room.
The hospital kept me for three days. They determined I had cellulitis and a rash and gave me intravenous antiobiotics. Then they sent me home with prescriptions and told me to take it easy—keep my foot elevated. I took it easy enough to go on Disability.
Instead of getting better, my ankle developed an infection. I bandaged and changed it every day. Lucy often helped.
On May 18, 2004, our world crashed around us. Lucy was in the process of bandaging my ankle when she had a stroke. At first I didn’t know what happened. She was conscious but unable to move. Then it dawned on me. I quickly called 9-1-1. They soon came and took her to the hospital.
What was I going to do? I could hardly walk. Things were not really getting any better—so I admitted myself also. We were both in hospital. Evidently the crash I saw nine months before.
This time the nephrologist, Dr. Pawar, suggested that I go on kidney dialysis since I had prepped for it about a year before. He knew that I was having difficulty most likely related to my diminished kidney function. I resignedly signed the necessary papers, and had second thoughts later. But when I started feeling better I knew I had made the right decision.
Dr. Fulginiti excised the infection I had, and then I really was confined to my bed while a nurse changed the bandages every day. As I lay in hospital, with Lucy recovering in Rehab, I did a bit of soul searching. This time I had my Bible with me and opened it randomly to Ecclesiastes 3:1 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.
That made me sit up and take notice. I randomly opened it again to Psalm 132:1-5 A Song of degrees. LORD, remember David, and all his afflictions: How he sware unto the LORD, and vowed unto the mighty God of Jacob; Surely I will not come into the tabernacle of my house, nor go up into my bed; I will not give sleep to mine eyes, or slumber to mine eyelids, Until I find out a place for the LORD, an habitation for the mighty God of Jacob.
That’s when it all went straight to the heart. I began to feel a purpose manifesting itself in this stay at the hospital for Lucy and me; indeed, the whole series of events that had recently occurred. From then on I watched as it unfolded.
It was the second hospitalization that I was started on kidney dialysis. Later, I had to be readmitted, and that was when I really got the opportunity to face myself and come to terms. That’s a story in itself but may eventually be told. Some of these stories may be a little off the charts for some people, but the incidents were real enough to me. It changed my life. Whatever was within was driving the circumstances for change. I truly believe that.
All that we need can be gotten by looking within ourselves, our true self. That is where we will find the truth for ourselves, from a true heart. Dire circumstances can bring about the need to find the answer. You don’t have to go anywhere else but within your own spiritual self. Luke 17:20-21 The
During this second stay at the hospital I felt particularly depressed at one point and I needed an outlet to drive it out of me. I prayed for relief from the dreadful feelings. A nurse offered to bring Lucy for a visit and I consented. As I waited I went through the throes of anguish enough that I buried my head in a pillow and screamed. That was enough to change my whole outlook. I don't know if anyone heard me but I felt so much better. Lucy soon came and we had a nice visit for awhile until the nurse took her back to her room.
These kinds of experiences help one to realize that you are not alone in these lonely times. It almost forces you to look within to the spiritual, for the assistance that you desire. And you eventually find a whole universe of possibilities at your beck and call, but it takes an almost interminable amount of patience. Such patience is bound to be rewarded sooner or later.
As I look back over the past 3 1/2 years, I remember the experiences and see where I am now. I am still on dialysis but my outlook is not depressing at all. And this morning I woke up with a song I learned years ago:
Lord, thou has searched and seen me through.
Thine eye commands with piercing view.
Awake, asleep, at home, abroad--
I am surrounded still with God.
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