Open Heart

Some of you are aware of what’s been going on with my mom. Many have been asking, and praying. So the purpose of this post is partly information, and partly processing a story in real time…

Last Thursday, July 10, on her 81st birthday, Mom was to have a heart procedure to replace her tricuspid valve. I am not going to share all the details here, but the short of it is, she ended up in emergency open heart surgery, her life in the balance. Her heart quite literally in the hands of a surgeon. Nothing any of us was expecting. 

Earlier in the day we’d chatted with Mom in pre-op. And all of us had the same memory, of how beautiful she’d looked, and full of life. Vibrant. Dad kept repeating, “She looked so good.” Which made the contrast later even more shocking. Post-trauma was utterly shocking. 

The next forty or so hours she remained sedated. We had no idea what was going to happen. I kept thinking back to how we’d sat in the waiting area playing a card game while our mom was dying. At one point, when we realized the “procedure” was taking longer than expected, we paused our game to pray together. Naive prayers, looking back. If we’d had any idea we would have been pleading. Desperate. Thinking about it now, I wonder how much of the Holy Spirit’s work is translating childlike, foolish prayers. Interceding from His all-knowing perspective. 

During those dark hours her children hovered around her bed. My sister read Scripture. My dad held her hand. Once I heard Dad talking on his cell phone, telling some guy, “Go hug your wife.” 

A night. 

A day. 

Another night. 

We waited and we wondered and we worried. And we prayed. Gut-punch prayers.

And then Saturday morning they began to wake her. Decreasing sedation, doing extubation. By the time I arrived she was regaining awareness. The nurse was asking questions about name, date, location. She passed each test. And it wasn’t just Mom regaining her breath. 

We were breathing again. And then, next thing you know

We were laughing. 

Who’d have thought we’d be laughing? It was Jared. Standing by Mom’s feet, asking his own test question. “Mom, if you could change one thing about my face, what would it be?” And without missing a beat, she whispered, “Mustache.” 

She was back. 

We celebrated. All afternoon, filling the ICU with singing and family. Our band-director brother suggesting a “Lake Beauty sing-a-long”—four siblings serenading our mama with memories from our childhood Bible camp. 

By Saturday evening Mom was requesting ice cream, and Sunday morning Gavin arrived with a cooler, fulfilling her wish. Her pastor arrived, too, along with his wife, and we broke bread together. “This cup is the blood of Jesus.” 

The blood. 

So much blood.

Sometime in the blur of shock and praying—while Mom was asleep, or barely awake—God gave me a sort of vision. I saw the surgeon holding Mom’s heart in his hands, stitching it back together. I saw the blood transfusions. Sacrificial blood. And God showed me—His hands, repairing Mom’s heart. Every hole stitched shut. The blood of Jesus surging like liquid love. 

It will be a long road yet. Days in the hospital and weeks to recover. Her breathing is labored. Her body is broken. It won’t be easy. Prayers are welcome. 

But. The day Mom regained her voice a doctor asked if she had any questions, and she whispered, “When can I ride my bike?” Which is to say, the woman is resilient. 

Covered by prayer, and surrounded by love. And blood. One day… one breath… at a time. 

P.S. Sunday morning Kyle and I went to church before heading to the hospital. I had the opportunity to kneel at the altar on Mom’s behalf, and this is the song the worship team was singing: 

You give life, You are love

You bring light to the darkness

You give hope, You restore every heart that is broken

And great are You, Lord

It's Your breath in our lungs

So we pour out our praise, we pour out our praise

It's Your breath in our lungs

So we pour out our praise to You only

(Great Are You Lord by All Sons & Daughters) 

Note: If you would like to follow more of the practical details of Mom’s journey, we have set up a CaringBridge site for her.