Elephant in the Room

I will never forget the conversation Jon and I had yesterday.  Friends and family were gone.  Nurses and doctors had left the room.  Jon reached out as best he could and opened his hand, indicating for me to come to him.  I walked over and put my hand into his.  He pulled me close to him and locked eyes with me.  "Is there an elephant in the room?"  He asked.  I didn't know if he was asking literally or metaphorically - as just 2 days before, he had thought the room was rotated on its side for about 5 hours, due to the crazy drugs he was on.  LOL!  I asked him what he meant.  He looked at me with a hint of both intensity and fear and said, "Is there something you know that I don't know?  Is there something everyone knows that you haven't told me?"  I knew this moment would be coming.  We had discussed it before he went into surgery.  The risks, the possible side effects... I asked him what he wanted to know and he said, "I want to know everything."  And so I began to talk him through the details of his situation.  Truthfully, I had told him everything... except the details of his face.  I explained that there was weakness in the right side of his face and walked through each feature.  The right side of his mouth felt like it had Novocain in it, so he said knew something was different there. I told him about his eyebrow not moving up or down and then that his eye was blinking at a little slower pace than his other one.  He could feel that.  We talked about the fact that there are incredible stories of facial nerves restoring, even after paralysis occurs.  We talked about the fact that he is getting stronger and stronger every day. There was hope.  And at the end, he said, "Is that it?  Anything else?" "Nope," I said.  "That's it."  I offered him a mirror, but he declined.   Baby steps.

However, just a few hours later, when the nurse wanted him to put eyedrops in, I handed him my little mirror to help him see.  He looked in it and paused, as he realized he hadn't seen himself in the mirror yet.  He took about a minute examining his face and testing his facial muscles.  He then looked at me and said, "Wow.  I'm a different person."  I kissed his forehead.  "No, you're not a different person.  You are the same person you've always been." I said.  He thought quietly for a moment and then said to me that he knows he looks different.... but it was OK.

It's OK.

Funny that he chose to use that phrase.  You see, the night before the surgery, in a moment of extreme vulnerability, we cried together as we discussed the possible outcomes of the surgery.  If facial paralysis was one of them, I told him I of course would love him just the same, our family would be the same family.  It didn't matter.  It's OK!  He looked at me and said very weakly, "What is 'OK'?  When you wake up in the morning and look in the mirror, is that OK?  Or do you brush your hair and fix some things up, and then you're OK?  There is nothing I'll be able to do.  Is that the new OK?"

And yet here he was, just 48 hours later, looking truth in the mirror and saying it is OK.

Truly.

OK.

Friends, my husband is more than OK.  He is ridiculously handsome.  He was handsome the day I laid eyes on him, the day I walked down the isle to him, the day he became a dad for the first time (and the 4th time) and the day he rolled out of the Operating Room for brain surgery.  He has a depth in his spirit that draws people in.  He has a warmth and kindness to him that makes you want to be a better person.  He loves Jesus with a faith that brings calmness to any storm.  He is more than OK.

But Jon knows he's OK because he lives his life by a different playbook.  What makes you happy?  What makes you feel fulfilled?  Is it money?  Stuff?  Good looks?  A job promotion?  Jon is so confident in what God's word says about where our value should and should not be.  When it boils down to it, none of the stuff matters.  In a fire, it all burns.  You, me, the toys, the trophies.  Gone.  The only thing that has value - eternal value - are things like hope, peace, love, grace, kindness, generosity, compassion, gratitude, etc.. etc.. etc.  And ultimately, a life after God's own heart.  Which is truly what Jon has.  In situations like this, the core of who someone is, is revealed.  You just can't BS your way through these types of ordeals.  We're 3 days in and Jon has rocked my world with who he is.  Like, the deep down stuff.  What he oozes when everyone is there and also when one is looking.  He is made of the good stuff.  The stuff that is MORE than OK.

Ultimately, of course our hope is that the weakness in his face is temporary.  Our hope is that he will be fully restored to what he was before.  Any physical change for any person would be difficult.  But honestly, I don't fear the outcome as much as I did before Jon asked about the elephant.  Somehow, some way, HE has led ME in this process.  He, with tubes hooked up to him, 3 IVs in his body, weakness in his whole left side, an incision in his skull... ya, that guy.  That guy is leading me.  To trust.  To care about deeper things.  To submit to a sovereign God.  Will it always be easy for me? No. Will it always be easy for him?  No.  But emotions don't rule our hearts.  Truth does.  And the Truth is that there are NO elephants when you live out loud.  And because of the grace of God, we will be MORE than OK.