25 ~ (May 2007—present)
The Glory of the Lord
“The Lord replied, ‘My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.’ Then Moses said to him, ‘If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here.’
And the Lord said to Moses, ‘There is a place near me where you may stand on a rock. When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand.’” (Exodus 33:14-15, 21-22)
On May 15, 2007, Karis had a check-up with her orthopedist in Cleveland. His words as he looked at her x-rays prompted a smile that didn’t fade for days: “I don’t see any sign of further deterioration. I think there’s a 50/50 chance that you’ll get through this without requiring surgery! Let’s continue the medication, and check up on you again before you go back to school in August. If we see improvement, we’ll know we’re on the right track.”
Karis had made ambitious plans for the summer: an intensive immersion Arabic study program in Wisconsin. She didn’t have time for a surgery that would require six months of recuperation! What a relief, what a delight, to escape the prospect of surgery for a few more months—and maybe even forever!!
Karis’s smile became even broader a few days later at her check-up in Pittsburgh with the transplant team. The whole team went to clinic to see her. They were thrilled with how well she was. Karis seemed to be entering a whole new phase of stability, and the impact of that slowly reverberated through our whole family. I returned to Brazil to rediscover my life there with my husband.
Jeremiah, a fellow struggler, once said, “I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:19-23)
An e-mail from Karis to her dad toward the end of May, 2007 brings these words to life. Karis responded to some thoughts he had shared about the promise from Romans 8:39, that nothing can separate us from the love of God. (The events she refers to happened during the first semester of her senior year of high school. A vigilia in Brazil is usually an all-night prayer meeting.)
Dear Daddy,
I remember distinctly the first time I realized that truth—I called it, simplistically, "nothing bad can happen." In my mind the only true evil possible was separation from God and I realized I was on the wide beach of God's love, inextricably hidden in Him like a tongue within a mouth. I was kept home from a vigilia that all my friends were at and I was sorely disappointed at the time. But I decided to pray alone in the living room on the floor and the knowledge just flooded over me. I got up and, naturally, danced.
I remember not too long afterwards coming back from Buenos Aires and going into what was likely my worst sepsis experience to date. I remember I was shaking so much I could not talk, though I tried desperately to, because I was convinced I might be dying and I wanted to reassure Mama—to tell her I was not afraid, that nothing bad could happen.
That assurance has been at the heart of what was bruised by the last three years, as I felt so terribly separated from God, my spirit dumb and mute and drugged, for an eternal year. I was startled and appalled to find that bad things could, and did happen—even under the strict definition I had invented for the word 'bad.' My spirit could be crushed.
Now, I feel the gentle rain on it again, and I am slowly phoenixing—
This is to date in my mind the greatest miracle that has happened in my life: not my physical survival or even flourishing, but the fact that my soul is able to sing again, and be confident that His promise indeed is true. Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ.
Love you,
Karis
After Dave shared this e-mail with me, I looked up the phoenix story, the bird that came to life again out of the ashes. Interesting: in Egyptian mythology, the tears of the phoenix bring healing.
Your joy is my strength alone, my strength alone.
Make these broken, weary bones rise to dance again,
Wet this dry and thirsty land with a river;
Lord, our eyes are fixed on you and we are waiting
For your garland of grace as we praise your name.
(From “Garments of Praise” by Jamie Harvill, CCLI #799334)
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