When I Became a Man

“When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” (I Corinthians 13:11-13)

This is the second of a two part series about Rose and Ken. If you missed last weeks story titled, “Don’t be such a Ham about it”, you can view it at here.

Rose, who has a type of dementia called Pick’s Disease, took an unexpected turn for the worse this week. She spiked a fever and was readmitted to our inpatient hospice unit. Her husband, Ken, told me, “Buddy, I thought I’d lost her. I really did. She wasn’t responding at all.” Ken’s eyes welled with tears as he said, “I was never a man to cry. You couldn’t make me cry. I’ve been hit so hard that it was like being kicked by a mule. You see this scar on my chin? I’ve been hit so many times. I’ve got scars all over my head. But I’ve never been hit hard enough to make me cry or to make me want to give up…I’ve always been the kind of person that if I told you something you could bank on it. And I won’t lie to you. I once got a butt whipping in school because I wouldn’t lie. I could have gotten out of it if I would’ve lied. And I don’t believe in pretending to be something you’re not. What you see is what you get.”

Ken may never have been hit hard enough by a man to make him cry, but the mere thought of losing Rose hit Ken hard enough to stagger him, to almost bring him to his knees. His eyes welled with tears again as he talked about their life together: “Back when we were young, before we had any kids, I was laid off for about six months. We didn’t have anything coming in at all. A preacher heard about it and came to talk to me. He offered to help, but I told him that we would try to make it on our own. So Rose and I painted barn roofs to make money. She got right up there with me. And she helped me load coal in the back of a pickup and we sold it for $5.00 a load. One day I got cheated out of two loads, but that’s alright.” Ken reflected, “The only thing I regret is that I wished I’d gone to church with her sooner…but you have to do it on your own. If you try to push people into it, you only push them farther away…The day that I finally got baptized the church was crowded. I think they all came to see if they were going to drown me.”

Ken’s “tender loving care” of Rose, reminds me of a song by “Alabama”: “I was taught to believe and never to doubt, the Man up above knows what he’s talking about. So when I heard that voice, so loud and clear, speak to my heart, I knew that she must be near. The Maker said take her and love her forever. Take care of her for life; and treat her right. I never was the one to listen very well. I walked my own way and felt what I felt; the further out of touch with a master plan. Well she was like a flight to the promise land. And the Maker said take her and love her forever. Take care of her for life. Never forsake her don’t be a heart breaker, the Maker said take her and treat her right, just treat her right. He placed an angel in the palm of my hands; and for once in my life I obeyed his commands. I’ll take her and love her forever, take care of her for life, never forsake her, don’t be a heartbreaker…just treat her right...” (The Maker Said Take Her)

We conduct interdisciplinary care planning meetings every Thursday morning and about 20-25 staff members participate. When Rose came up for discussion I shared my plans for this column. But I also decided to stick my neck out and make a confession. I told the team: “I know that this is going to sound strange for one man to say about another man, but Ken makes me want to be a better man.”

I should have expected the comment that came next; because; “If you dish it out you have to be willing to take it.” I’m continually casting out comments, like lures, trying to get others to bite on them, especially the females. So, Dr. Bonzo, with a satisfied smile on her face responded, “I bet Susie wishes you were a better man too.” Then the other females, knowing my wife Susie, chimed in with an enthusiastic, “Yeah!”

As I sit here writing this column, I’ve concluded that Dr. Bonzo’s comment, even though made in jest, probably contains some element of truth. Susie probably does wish I were a better man. And there’s probably a reason why Ken makes me want to be a better man; because I need to be. What about you?

Our culture, and even our churches, has distorted what it means to be a man. John Eldredge in his book, “Wild at Heart”, writes: “Some women want a passive man…the church wants a tame man…the university wants a domesticated man…the corporation wants a sanitized, hairless, shallow man…”. Consequently, many men have become separated from their own hearts for, “the heart of a man is driven into the high country.”

C.S. Lewis, in, “The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe”, wrote about Aslan, a lion, the true king of Narnia, who was returning to reclaim his kingdom. And when the children asked, “Is he tame?” they are told, “No, he’s not tame, but he is good.” If you want to know what it means to be a real man then just “look unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith?” (Hebrews 12:2). He is the one with the pen in his hand. And don’t be afraid of Him, for “He is good.” But, do be careful; don’t push Him, because “He’s not tame”. After all, He is a Lion.

Dont' Be Such a Ham About It!

Rose was sixty-seven when admitted to hospice with Pick’s Disease, a form of dementia similar to Alzheimer’s disease. Pick’s is a metabolic disorder in which the person lacks an enzyme required to break down fatty substances in the brain and nervous system. Consequently brain cells swell, then shrink and eventually die; resulting in progressively disabling behavioral and personality changes.

Rose now needs twenty-four hour care and supervision; she restlessly roams, is practically mute and has very limited affect or emotional expression. But she still responds to the love of her life, her husband Ken. One of our hospice inpatient center nurses told me that when Ken picked Rose up at the end of a recent respite stay that, “As soon as she saw Ken she reached her arms straight out for him.” The nurse added, “You sure can tell she adores him.”

Ken reminisced, “I was raised on a farm and I never wanted to go back to one. But Rose came home one day and told me that she’d put $500 down on a farm…So here we are.” Rose and Ken have enjoyed a true partnership. Their relationship reminds me of what God said after creating Adam, “It is not good for man to be alone. I will make him a helper comparable to him.” (Genesis 2:18). According to Ken, Rose has surely been a “helper comparable to him”. They’ve worked side-by-side. Together they’ve roofed barns, loaded, hauled and sold coal, and constructed the house they presently live in. And Ken bragged, “Rose did a lot of the carpentry work her self.”

During one of my visits, as we sat at the kitchen table, Ken reminisced about his upbringing. He shared some of the values he learned from his father: “Dad taught us not to use the word ‘can’t’. He told us to use the word ‘try’. He always expected us to at least try…And dad told us that if you have a bird in your hands don’t grab after the other two in the bush, or you might lose the one you have.” Ken added, “And I don’t like to hear someone talking bad about somebody. I’d rather try to find something good to say about somebody…And I believe that if you tell something on somebody that you don’t know for sure is true, to me it’s the same as lying.“

Ken’s comments ushered my thoughts back to a poignant story about Noah and his three sons, Ham, Shem and Japheth. (Genesis chapter 9) After the flood waters receded and the ark rested on dry ground, Noah planted a vineyard, made some wine, got drunk and passed out “uncovered” in his tent. The story continues, “Ham…saw his father’s nakedness and told his two brothers outside. But Shem and Japheth took a garment and covered their father’s nakedness. Their faces were turned the other way so that they would not see their father’s nakedness.” What a display of Godly respect!

Shem and Japheth’s response to their father’s nakedness reminds me of a chorus we used to sing at church back in the 70s: “We will work with each other; we will work side by side. We will work with each other; we will work side by side. And we’ll guard each man’s dignity and save each man’s pride. And they’ll know we are Christian’s by our love, by our love. And they’ll know that we are Christian’s by our love.”

I ask you, will they know that we are Christians by our love? I confess I have a burning need to complete Step Seven of the Twelve Steps of AA: “Humbly ask God to remove my shortcomings.” And I pray that the next time I look upon the “nakedness”, the shortcomings, of others, that I’ll remember not to be “such a Ham about it”; that instead, I’ll cover them with a garment of respect. For: “Whoever belittles his neighbor lacks sense, but a man of understanding remains silent. Whoever goes about slandering reveals secrets, but he who is trustworthy in spirit keeps a thing covered.” (Proverbs 11:12-14; ESV)

The Bible: The mind of God, the state of man

Joyce was referred to Hospice with end stage liver failure. As the hospice social worker it was my job to meet with Joyce to reach a mutual decision about whether hospice was right for her. I can still visualize our first meeting. Joyce was in the hospital, in the first bed, beside the door. She was frail and so thin I could have wrapped my thumb and index finger around her arm. She was only in her thirties, but her face reflected a person weathered way beyond her years by a stormy life. She was clearly in the final stage of her disease. I introduced myself and asked about her condition. She boldly admitted, “I know I’m going to die soon.” Since she was so direct I decided to be too. I asked what she believed spiritually, and without saying a word, she reached for a Bible lying on her bedside table. She pulled a creased and stained piece of paper from between the pages and informed me, “Someone at a half way house I was staying in gave this to me. I don’t even remember who it was, but I’ve held on to it ever since.” She handed it to me as if to say, “This is what I believe!” I don’t think I’ve read anything that better describes the value and power of God’s word. Joyce passed it on to me, now I’m passing it on to you: The Bible

This book reveals the mind of God, the state of man,

The way of salvation, the doom of sinners, and the happiness of believers.

Its doctrines are holy; its precepts are binding,

Its histories are true, and its decisions are immutable.

Read it to be wise, believe it to be safe, and practice it to be holy.

It contains light to direct you, food to support you, and comfort to cheer you.

It is the travelers map, the pilgrim’s staff, the pilots compass, the soldier’s sword, and the Christian’s charter.

Here too, heaven is opened, and the gates of hell disclosed.

Christ is its grand subject, our good its design,

And the glory of God its end.

It should fill the memory, rule the heart, and guide the feet.

Read it slowly, frequently, prayerfully.

It is a mine of wealth, a paradise of glory, and a river of pleasure.

It is given you in life, will be opened at the judgment, and be remembered forever.

It involves highest responsibility, will reward the greatest labor,

And condemn all who trifle with its sacred contents.

Owned it is riches, studied it is wisdom; trusted it is salvation;

Loved it is character; and obeyed it is power.

Like a Tree Planted by the Rivers of Water

Flo was referred to Hospice for terminal cancer when she was in her sixties. She lived alone, was widowed and had no children. She was soft spoken, modest and maybe even a little shy. She didn’t like being the center of attention and didn’t talk much about herself or her illness. She was thankful and didn’t seem to take anything for granted. Her life was simple and her possessions modest, but she was content. Her contentment amazed, puzzled and convicted me. How could she be so content with such a simple life? Even her terminal illness didn’t seem to disturb her peace. There was a deep, quiet strength about Flo. What was her secret? I really wanted to know, so I asked, “Flo, what enables you cope so well? What do you do?” She replied, “I don’t know. I don’t do anything special.” But after a few more seconds of contemplation she added, “Well, there is something I do. I’ve read one chapter of the Bible every day for 20 years. I write five things down in a notebook after reading each chapter; God’s message to me, a promise from God, a command to keep, a timeless example, and my prayer.”

Flo slowly arose from her chair and said, “I’ll be right back”. When she returned from the back room, her thin arms were grasping a small cardboard box filled with spiral notebooks. There must have been ten to fifteen notebooks in there. She pulled one out and shared some of her journaling. I felt so privileged for her to share her personal thoughts and feelings with me. I felt like I was on holy ground, and I was; for the hearts, souls and minds of all men are holy ground. Flo handed me one of her journals, and as I scanned through the pages, I noticed that her prayers all started out with, “Lord Jesus, thank you for a good nights rest and for living to see another day.” I told Flo that I was impressed and inspired by her dedication and discipline. Then Flo exclaimed, “Oh, these aren’t all my notebooks. I have several other boxes full in the other room.” Her deep quiet strength was no longer a mystery.

Flo’s life is a living legacy of God’s promise presented to us in the first Psalm: “Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the ungodly…But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and in His law he meditates day and night. He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water that brings forth its fruit in its season, whose leaf also shall not wither; and whatever he does shall prosper…”

I encourage you to embark upon your own personal adventure of routine Bible study. Many people have difficulty getting started because they lack direction. You’ll notice that Flo had a well defined plan. You might consider adopting Flo’s plan or I’d be happy to send you a guide that I synthesized from an excellent book titled, “Living by the Book” by Howard and William Hendricks. The guide will lead you through a step-by-step process of observation, interpretation and application. If interested, you can contact me by e-mail at hardinl@somc.org and I will e-mail or mail you a copy.

Living on Grace Street

Dennis was fifty-three years old when he enrolled in hospice because of esophageal cancer. Dennis was living on Grace Street in New Boston, Ohio when he moved in with his brother, Dean, because he could no longer care for himself.

Dennis and I both grew up in New Boston, a small Southern Ohio town. I’d even lived on Grace Street when I was in the third grade. It was a lot like growing up in “Mayberry” (“The Andy Griffith Show”, 1960’s and 70’s). We enjoyed a sense of community, safety and security. We had our community characters and even had a policeman a lot like old Barney Fyffe. In New Boston, everyone knew everyone; maybe too well at times. And I knew several of Dennis’ seven brothers and sisters, all with first names starting with “D”; but I didn’t get to know Dennis very well until he became our hospice patient.

Dennis had a tracheotomy and covered the hole in his throat with his finger so he could talk. But he liked to talk and I liked talking with him. While Dennis was in our inpatient care center he and I reminisced about “the good ole days”. We even exchanged a few confessions and Dennis seemed to especially enjoy mine. Dennis later told his sister, Donna, with a grin and some delight, ‘I can’t believe that out of him.’

But Dennis had some pretty interesting confessions of his own. He confessed that he had been an alcoholic. He admitted, “I went to the bars looking for women but I usually came home with two black eyes.” Dennis wasn’t a big fellow but he was game. His brother, Dean, told me, “I had to rescue him from many a fight…He would take on three guys at a time.” Dennis had even been barred from the MT Corral, one of New Boston’s favorite watering holes.

There was something likeable about Dennis besides him being a fellow New Bostonian. There was a grace about Dennis; he didn’t seem to be proud, pretentious or judgmental, which I’ve found is usually the fruit brokenness, of humility. Donna told me, “He would do anything for anybody.”

You know, it’s easy to form a jaded opinion of people with drug or alcohol addictions. I shared a lesson with Dennis and Donna that I learned from my daughter Jessie. After one of Jessie’s close friends died from an overdose she told me, “Dad someone needs to tell people that just because someone has a drug problem it doesn’t mean that they’re a worthless person!” She described her friend as one of the most caring, tender-hearted and understanding people she’d ever known. Her respect, appreciation and grief were all profound.

A few weeks before Dennis’ death he wanted his sister, Donna, to take him back to his house on Grace Street for a few hours. Donna recounted, “I was really worried that something would happen. There are three steps and then two steps to get in the house. When we got in he sat down in his chair for a few minutes and went through some papers. Then he said, ‘Alright, I’m ready to go.’” Donna reflected, “I’m so glad I took him.”

In route to visit a patient in West Portsmouth I came across “Easy Street”. Really, it exists! And on Interstate 68, east of Morgantown, W.Va., I saw an exit to Fair Chance Road on Cheat Lake. I guess if you lived on Cheat Lake you would hope for a Fair Chance. You know a lot of people want to live on “Easy Street” but, like Dennis, I frequently find myself longing to go back to “Grace Street”.

I know God’s saving grace but I sometimes fall from His sustaining grace; because I start thinking, “I can do it on my own. I don’t need anybody’s help”; not even Gods. I become deluded into thinking I can be my own savior; that I can prove myself; that I can be good enough. But sooner or later, I find myself back on the knees of my heart praying, “God help me”. And again I find myself longing to be back on “Grace Street”, and I am.

I think many of you will remember this nursery rhyme: “Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall; Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. And all the kings horses and all the King’s men; couldn’t put Humpty together again.” Nothing but bad news for Humpty but there’s good news (The Gospel) for us, because: “Jesus Christ came to our wall, Jesus Christ died for our fall; so that regardless of death and in spite of our sin, through grace, He might put us together again.” (“The Tardy Oxcart”; by Chuck Swindoll)

“Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ has made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage…whoever of you are justified by the law; ye are fallen from grace.” (Galatians 5:1-4)