On Monday, we went to the Philippine Heart Center to see my husband’s cardiologist. Over the weekend, we concluded that the spikes in his blood pressure were not an ordinary thing.  Something was up and we had to get some answers.  I did not let the kids go to school. I thought they had to be there to know for themselves what the doctor had to say. They had to see for themselves what was going to happen. Actually, I thought I was being a coward. I wanted my kids with me so that I wouldn’t have to be alone.  I couldn’t think of how I was going to tell them when I saw them after school and their Dad had gone on.  What was I going to tell them?

My husband and I woke up at 2am and we couldn’t sleep anymore.  We just lay there in the dark talking. I told him that I was feeling peculiar, like I wasn’t myself. I have not shed a tear (I’m usually teary in times of health crises).  I am alert and anticipating something but I am not afraid or sad. I’ve never been like this before. I concluded that I must be protecting myself just in case my husband dies. I felt like I am putting my emotions in a box to be sorted out at some later time when the crisis is over. This is not me at all; this was not how I deal with things.  I wasn’t complaining, though.  I wasn’t angry that we had to go through this crisis.  Usually I blame myself; I ask myself what I could have done to preventit. I scrutinize my actions and find my fault.  I tell myself off and then I ask forgiveness of God and thank Him for this time of correction. I presume myself guilty until I am made righteous before God.  Then I ask God to show me how He can be glorified in all this; how I can learn to trust Him more; how I can find His grace in the midst of all this pain and uncertainty.  I got my answer yesterday. After we saw the doctor:

I really shouldn’t despise the chastening of the Lord. People think that chastening always means harsh discipline after one has gone wrong.  It’s not always like this: God is more creative than that. Sometimes, God puts us in a corner, confined by our circumstances.  If I stop squirming, stop trying to break free, I learn grace.

God truly “engineers our circumstances.” It may hurt and be uncomfortable when God moves in my life, but, really, He never moves unless it is in love.  Whatever God does in the lives of His children is always motivated by love.  Even his anger is his love expressing itself in correcting our wayward natures.

God can use even the most painful of circumstance to bring forth growth and maturity. It doesn’t look like I’m being groomed for maturity, it just hurts.  It doesn’t feel like God is lovingly smoothing out the rough spots, it just hurts.

So what was my answer?  Well, it’s a long story, believe me. And I would have to trace family medical history to give you the answer.  My husband’s grandfather, Professor Irineo Miranda (UP College of Fine Arts, Dean of Watercolors and Cartoonists) died of bleeding ulcers.  My husband’s aunt, Irinea M. Santiago died immediately after surgery for bleeding ulcers. My husband’s brother has ulcers.  It’s a genetic predisposition for them to have ulcers.  And I think the ulcers trigger the high blood pressure which in turn triggers the heart attacks. That’s on the Miranda side.

In 2008, my husband’s only symptoms were epigastric distress and water retention ( a stomach ache and edema).  If it were not for those, we would never think of going to a cardiologist. Last weekend, his symptom was epigastric distress. If his distress did not make his blood pressure spike, we would not have gone to the doctor.  If we had not gone to the doctor, he would not have diagnosed it as a bacterial infection in the stomach which can lead to ulcers.  I remember watching a show on the National Geographic Channel that said that ulcers are like bacteria-infected wounds on the stomach’s lining.  Treat the bacterial infection and the ulcers will heal.

That is what I mean by “everything works together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose.”  God takes even the painful things and make them work for us, so that He can teach us grace; so that He can teach us trust; so that we can see His glory.

All the while I was telling God it was ok with me if He took my husband, God was actually making sure I would have him for a bit longer. I remember praying in 2008: I asked God to heal my husband not for myself, I asked it for my children who were too young to lose their father.  People automatically presume that when I say that I don’t want to be widowed yet, I am just afraid of losing our most viable means of support.  It’s not that at all.  I was born poor.  I’m used to it. My kids don’t think themselves rich, either. They know how to work and how to live frugally.  Loss of financial support is not my big worry.

Loss of emotional support is more distressing for me. My kids love their father.  I often find them huddled together talking, having fun with their guitars, talking about life in general, talking about the news they are listening to. I would dare say that they are more careful with me than they are with their father.  They are more ready to listen to him and to accept his propositions than they are to me. They are sure that their Dad loves them and will understand them. They are more emotionally unguarded with him than they are with me.

If they lose their Dad while they are still forming their view of life, his death would put out one bright spot of hope, perseverance and courage. His existence is one bright gleam of faith that teaches them to face life despite all the odds stacked up against them and know that God is still on the throne.  My kids are probably like me, enamored of their father. My husband in our lives is what makes everyday life bearable for all of us, I think. My kids can’t lose that just yet.  On hindsight, this latest heart crisis is not a crisis at all. It’s God answering our prayers to have my husband with us for a bit longer, until the kids have finished their emotional upbringing.

It’s also a reminder that all of creation is groaning, waiting for the adoption of sons.  We are a part of creation. We are in fact, God’s new creation.  We shouldn’t be surprised at all to find ourselves groaning, waiting for our release from the fallout of sin in this world. We are aching for the glory that is promised to us. And we groan more everyday as Jesus’ coming approaches nearer.  This most recent crisis is another way of reminding me that life isn’t supposed to be sunshine and roses.  We don’t belong here, really. We are sojourners and we are waiting for the call to come home. It’s a call to get ready, to anticipate and yearn for eternity.

I think I have now arrived at the spot that I can thank God for that crisis.  I asked for that. I asked for the chance to see His face through that crisis: he answered that prayer, too.   I asked for the chance to worship Him through that crisis: he answered that prayer, too.  My husband is still taking medication. Life is much the same as it has been, except, maybe, I am wiser today than I was on Friday; I am more in awe of God today. He truly is a Great God.  He deserves all of  my worship, my praise and my trust. He truly is a Loving Heavenly Father.  He deserves my love.

Are you going through a crisis today? It can be a crisis, or it can be an opportunity for spiritual growth and meaningful worship.  You can choose.