On December 24, 2014, I was awakened in the middle of the night with a burning pain in my chest. As much as my pain was physical, it was equally emotional and spiritual. My heart was heavy as I came into clearer consciousness and realized I had escaped from a nightmare. There was a man in the hospital who was having trouble with his heart. Overcome with empathy, I immediately felt burdened to pray earnestly for this hurting man. And I eventually prayed myself back into sleep.
I woke up on Christmas morning next to a bursting-with-light window, and my bursting-with-excitement little sister. We ran excitedly downstairs, eager to begin the joyful celebrations of the most wonderful day of the year. It wasn’t until later that morning that I remembered what the darkness of the night had brought me. I quickly ran to my Father, noted my nightmare in my journal, and prayed for the man I had met in my sleep once again.
On May 9, 2016, nearly a year and a half later, I found myself sitting in a hospital waiting room next to my daddy. On this day he would have open heart surgery; a surgery that would save his life. The hours and days that followed were the most painful of my entire life, but also, perhaps the most beautiful.
After pre-op procedures were finished they let my mom, older brother, and I go back to see my dad one last time. I kissed him with tears streaming down my face and praying with everything in me that this was not a goodbye kiss. The hours were heavy and dragged their feet. Fear had a firm grip on my heart and I could hardly find the words to pray. I felt as if I was holding my breath, only letting my self gasp for air every few hours when a nurse would come and update us on how he was doing. When the surgery was finally over, the day was just about over too. They said they would let us see him for just five minutes. As badly as I wanted to crawl underneath his hospital bed so I never had to leave him, I would have taken even five seconds with him. I walked into ICU and burst into tears once again as I saw my dad laying helplessly with blankets and tubes covering his body. I quickly thanked God, and then continued to plead with Him to show us mercy.
The night was long and painful, and I was eager to get back to the hospital to be by my dad’s side. When I was finally allowed to see him again, he was awake this time, but coming in and out of grogginess. I continued to cry, for I had no idea what else to do, but this time they were tears of deep joy and gratefulness. Praise flowed from my lips because my dad’s heart was beating. As I held my dad’s hand, tears began to roll down his face now too, and he said, “I’m just so happy. I made it. I’m alive.”
On May 11, 2016, I walked alongside my courageous mother as she went to meet her husband in ICU on their 25th wedding anniversary. There were complications that prolonged his stay in ICU. He could hardly speak on this day, so I just watched as my mom sat steady by his side and held his hand. I knew that for them to be together on this day was enough.
On May 13, 2016, all eight of us crammed into my dad’s little hospital room and everything began to burst with light, like the window from that one Christmas morning. My dad got out of his bed and walked for the first time all week, with seven followers slowly trailing behind him. We were rising from the ashes.
On May 15, 2016, my mom, sister, and I gathered around my dad to worship together. This was the day God reminded me of that painful night on Christmas Eve. I realized that He had woken me up that night to pray in advance for the life of my own dad. My sister strummed her ukulele and humility and weakness poured over the four of us as we lifted our voices in worship. It felt as if the hospital walls suddenly became thin, and the thickness of heavenly bodies encompassed the room. We could hardly sing through the ocean of tears that was beginning to fill the space, but the Lord heard our cry of utter thanksgiving for the wonder that had just occurred.
On July 23, 2016, I squeezed my daddy tight with the fullest heart as I dropped my family off at the airport to get on a plane to China to fulfill his dream of moving back overseas to teach again. I could hardly believe this was the same man I sat next to in the hospital just two months before. An undoubtable miracle stood before me.
Due to the events of the last few months, it has made saying goodbye to my family for a year all the more difficult. However, I have also been given an overwhelming sense of peace that this is what must be. Despite the chaos that has unraveled, and the darkness my family has walked through this year, the Almighty has still paved a way for us to step through the swinging doors he has opened for each of us. Although each of the doors are all different colors and sizes, and all point in different directions, we can take hope in the fact that our Father holds us firmly together at the same entryway.
I recently finished reading another masterpiece by one of my heroes, Barbara Brown Taylor, called Learning to Walk in the Dark. In her book, Taylor explores darkness and the richness of what it can teach us. She argues that we need darkness as much as we need light. While studying darkness, Taylor went spelunking through an unlit cave where she came across a dazzling crystal stone from the darkest place in the cave. She broke off a piece and stuffed it in her backpack to save as a trophy from her journey. When Taylor returned home that night and began to unpack her bag, she came across what looked like a lump of road gravel. She wondered why she had even picked up this rock. Then, she suddenly realized there was too much light in the room from the reading lamp she had on. She turned it off and replaced it with a small penlight, and suddenly, the stone burst to life with light! But only in the dazzling darkness.
Similar to this precious stone, by walking through such darkness over the past few months, I have found treasures that would only have ever been visible in the dark. I am confident that the Lord was using this walk in the dark to further equip me for what the coming months will hold. The dark brings us to a our knees when we can no longer see. This is where the Almighty meets us on our spiritual journey and reveals his most precious gifts. Now, as I prepare to step out and take flight overseas this week, I know that I will be stepping into dark corners across the nations. I believe that although there are fears that so instinctively follow us in the dark, this is where God is waiting to be discovered in His truest and most dazzling form of light!
