Magazine Vibes

Comforting photos and a sermon to myself.

Recovery from a Whipple procedure is pretty tough. Things are going okay and within expectations, but it’s a rough road for both the caregiver and the patient.

Sometimes I feel pretty on top of things and properly Lutheranly stoic about this last stage of recovery for John. But more often, I feel frustrated at the glacial pace of healing and outrageously sad over how tough things still are. There are things that I thought we’d have post-surgery that are Not Yet To Be, although we know they will come. I miss those things with a deep ache. I’m impatient.

My perception of how tough things still are is, of course, colored by the fact that I’m so weary of the battle. John is too. We’re both tired of watching the one we love most suffer.

And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
and hearts are brave again, and arms are strong.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

—“For All The Saints,” William Walsham How (1864)

An old German hymn, “Wer nur den lieben Gott läst walten,” seems to land in the rotation at church at the exact times I need it most. It is the best teaching on Christian trial that I know. I might even hazard to call the hymn a treatise on Christian stoicism.

What can these anxious cares avail thee,
These never-ceasing moans and sighs?
What can it help if thou bewail thee
O'er each dark moment as it flies?
Our cross and trials do but press
The heavier for our bitterness.

—Georg Neumark, 1621-1681, trans. Catherine Winkworth

“Nur größer durch die Traurigkeit,” goes the last line in the original German. “Only greater for our sadness.” But being a good Lutheran, Neumark doesn’t leave us there, with a slap to the face for our sorrow.

The hymn continues with the promise of passing time and change, all carefully watched over by a loving God:

Nor think amid the fiery trial
That God hath cast thee off unheard,
That he whose hopes meet no denial
Must surely be of God preferred.
Time passes and much change doth bring
And sets a bound to ev'rything.

— Neumark, trans. Winkworth

Someday I’ll write an article on how often the command to sing shows up in scripture and in hymns.

Sing, pray, and keep His ways unswerving,
Perform thy duties faithfully,
And trust His Word; though undeserving,
Thou yet shalt find it true for thee.
God never yet forsook in need
The soul that trusted Him indeed.

— Neumark, trans. Winkworth¹

None of this comfort makes the difficult times pass more swiftly—if only we could skip ahead to the day that John can eat comfortably and is strong again— but it does assure us that God has numbered the days of this trial and each day is known to Him. Although we are discouraged, we are not in despair.

I keep making myself work on the dacha interior even though at the moment I have difficulty imagining when we’ll be able to sit out there together again like we used to. There’s every reason to believe it will happen; I just can’t see it from the trenches. Day will come again! said Húrin, seventy times². Maybe we’re closer to the end than we realise? Please, Jesus. Let it be so.

I’ve gotten a fair amount of weeding done lately. I’ve figured out a staged method for weeding in ten- and fifteen-minute chunks, consolidating the scattered piles of weeds later in the day or every few days as time allows. Whitsun seems to love it when I come outside with her.

Watching her outdoors is pure joy. With quality food and a safe, dry home at night and a cat’s paradise of a backyard for a good portion of the daytime hours, she is living her very best cat life. I haven’t seen any evidence yet of her hunting small game, although she does check all the known ground squirrel holes carefully each morning. The grackles make their opinions known when Whitsun trots off the back stoop and into the shrubbery. They’re not happy about the situation, but then, they’ve got wings and are nearly bigger than Whitsun, who is a petite cat, so I’m not sure what they’re all in a tizzy about.

To sunshine, to birds, to flowers, to cats and dogs who live in the moment with joyful abandon; to friends and love and everything precious. Day will come again.

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Whitsun! I put out fresh, clean water for you in this pretty pink bucket! “But the algae water is so much more interesting, Lady of the Gardens.”

1. Full text of the hymn is at this link.

2. It doesn’t end well for Húrin, but in the battle he never relinquished hope. Read more here.