His ways are higher than our ways and His thoughts higher than our thoughts,I was mad at God, not that my Dad had died but the way he had died. I had been working as a Respiratory Therapist for two years a fact that my dad was very proud. In fact when he was so very sick and the ambulance driver told him that the other hospital would be closer he insisted that he come to “Jeanie’s hospital”. I was working that day and remember going down to the garage where the ambulances come in, not knowing what to expect when they opened those back doors to lift him out. As I had feared, Dad was in great respiratory distress but that didn’t stop that big smile from taking up his whole face. I knew he was relieved to see me as if I could magically take away the awful lung disease that had taken over his body.
Through Respiratory school and during my short years working I had encountered many people with COPD like my father. Many patients, time after time came to the hospital, as their health failed until they eventually ended up on a ventilator. I had cared for many who was so bad that a breathing machine had to breath for them to sustain their very life. Some would succumb as, not even the mechanical breathing could keep them alive. I saw terror and pain in their face as they gasped for life giving oxygen to fill their damaged lungs only to die in their efforts. At those times, I would pray “Lord, I know my Dad is so very sick and will die with this horrid lung disease but please don’t let him die like this, not like this Lord”.
So here I stood looking at my Dad, who had always been a strong man with wide shoulders and big hands, looking every bit like the many patients that I had taken care of in the past two years. He struggled to breathe, his color was ashen but still there was that smile. Oh my how I loved this man. I shot a quick prayer to God “Don’t let him die like I have seen so many die” I pleaded. “Don’t let him have to be on the ventilator”, I begged.
Days and weeks stretched on and indeed my dad was put on the ventilator as I had feared. He, as many, suffered and he, as the many that I had cared for, died. I painfully mourned my father’s passing as anyone would, but I mourned the trust in God that was so conspicuously missing in my life. The death I expected but God had let me down I thought. The one thing I had asked he had not given me. How could I trust him again?
In James I read a little verse that always confused me concerning the many trials we go through.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face many trials because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. James 1:2-4
In the weeks and months to come as I processed the anger I felt for God, my faith was being tested. But, I began to notice that I had more compassion for my patients, because they wore the face of my Dad. I felt when I lessened the pain of others it was like I was doing it for my dad. And when I was greeted with a smile of relief when I entered a room to bring a breathing treatment, I knew that my prayers went unanswered for a reason. In God’s timing, in the bigger picture, work was being done in my spiritual life. As I persevered to understand God, He made me more complete.
I worked for over twenty years caring for those who wore the face of my Dad and each one made me stronger in my faith. I can’t say I have gotten to the place where I consider trials pure joy but I have gotten to the place where I spend less time being mad at God and more time wondering where these trials will lead me in God’s bigger plan. I know that His thoughts are higher than mine because He is God and I am not!
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