The Eyes Have It

The first part of this blog will be an update on Liz’s physical/medical condition. The second part will be me talking out what God is doing and how He is moving. Life by itself is just a moment. But with purpose, moments have meaning. And with meaning, He is revealed.

Liz is, right now, laying on a bed in the emergency in Dallas-area hospital. While at the doctor’s office yesterday, she began experiencing, as she described, the worse headache of her life. The nurses did give her some medicine, but it did nothing to curb the pain. All night, Liz was extremely dizzy, faint, and in pain. This morning, things were the same. There were talks of Liz having an angioplasty tomorrow in the doctor’s office, but this afternoon, they have called and said they would be unable to do it then.

There is something wrong. This isn’t a time to be skeptical and critical of Liz’s constant need for prayers. You can see it on her face. When I had to literally carry her down the stairs this afternoon, I knew something was wrong. This is not the picture I remember seeing on the marriage brochure. Honeymoons end and life becomes a series of Survivor-like relays.

I just spoke with Liz’s mom. The doctor has been in and rattled off several possibilities of what’s going on. He mentioned such things as a pulmonary embolism, a hematoma on her spinal column, and clot in the neck. Last I heard, they were trying to figure out whether to do a CT scan with contract or just an MRI. The doctor(s) and nurses are listening and paying attention today. I will try and keep everyone up to speed, but right now, we have no answers.

Sometimes He stands in the corner, with one shoulder leaned against the wall. Other times, He sits at a nearby table in the local coffee shop. And at other times, He sits in the passenger seat with the windows rolled down. But one thing is for sure, the man with scars on His hands and feet and on His side is always within reach. I find myself staring. How bad did it hurt when three-inch thorns were shoved down on His head; digging into the skin, nerve-endings, and skull. I want to ask Him to turn around and lift His shirt so I can see His back. It’s thick with scar tissue. He then turns, looks me in the eye and tells me I was worth it.
At which point, I get stupid. I feel Him searching my heart; getting to know me. He sees the dam of tears, the wall of fears, and the arsenal of “why’s” and “how come’s?” Oh, God, please don’t search my heart. For there, you will find very little that pleases You. But Lord, search my eyes…for they long for Yours. See how they seek You out in times of need. See that they are filled with images of security, love, and hope.
I invited you to the baptism, but need to keep you at my side while I walk. I see that at times I have you on speed dial. Where’s the relationship in that? Where’s the friendship in that? You lead me so that I may lead my family. Lead me so that I may know where to step, when to step, and how to step.

I no longer work nights. I no longer spend the majority of my daytime hours sleeping. I no longer have to miss out on late night happenings. But, as much as I was beaten by that job because of the obvious stressors that it entails, I learned so much. In times of brokenness, I am not so broken. In times of need, I long for very little. And in times of defeat, I am only looking through my eyes. Alone, I am unable to create and/or sustain hope. I know not what Liz’s future is. The Dixon family may be celebrating Easter in the hospital this year. Or we may all get up on Easter Sunday and go to church together. But what happens is the celebration, not the location.

As I can continue to have to rely on friends and family for help, I wonder when my time to serve will come. When I am put into a situation where I should not be the only one praying, I wonder when my time to pray for others will come. God’s moving. He is working. I can no longer be satisfied with being in His wake. I want the front lines position.

So…I’m back. Here. Kids need dinner. Liz is in the hospital. Life is before me. Waiting and watching are not options. Moving, adjusting, flexing, twisting, turning, and recognizing the blessings along the way…I’m in.

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One Response to “The Eyes Have It”

  1. Frankly, I am almost beyond comments. Each day, as others, I have been lifting Liz, you and the kids before the Lord. I have never experienced what you are going through, but stand on one simple thought, “God is God!” As you, I can say I don’t understand, but still stand in faith that the future will provide an almost unbelievable, dynamic and glorious testimony of faith under fire. Every step you take, every prayer you pray is being sustained and enforced by the prayers of those who believe that the Lord will be glorified in your lives. May He bless you beyond your highest hopes, desires or expectations.

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