My Parents: My Heros

At Carley's wedding in '07

My parents are my heros.  I don't know that I've ever told them that.   I'm sure my mom will be reading this shortly, so I guess the "cat's outta the bag."  It's true though.  I wish I was with them today... for comfort's sake.

My dad is one of the strongest men I've ever met.  In his younger days (high school, I believe) he was a gymnast.  Male gymnasts are freakishly strong.  And then when my siblings and I were really young, he was a professional weightlifter.  I can remember going to meets with my mom and my sister, my brother being too young.  Being surrounded by all of these huge giants, watching them lift obscene amounts of weight.  My dad isn't very tall, but man were his arms and chest huge!  At one point my father was the strongest man in the country in his weight group.  That's quite a feat!  We have boxes and boxes of his trophies.  My sister and I have tons of stories about being at the meets, causing trouble, and exploring the venues. 

Aside from physical strength, my dad was a hard worker when he was able to work.  From what I can remember he didn't take too many days off.  He worked hard, both he and my mom really, to provide the amazing childhood that my sister, brother, and I had.  We never went without.  We got pretty much everything we asked for.  We took family vacations to Disney World and Disney Land.  We did fun things in Chicago... went to LOTS of Cubs games, bowling, movies, river walk, ice cream, sledding.  We always had a pool (or whatever neighborhood we lived in had one), we had our own rooms (except when we were too small to care), had the latest video games when we asked for them, toys, bikes, boom boxes, etc..  I can only hope to be able to provide that well for my own family some day.

Then when I was about 12, my dad slipped a disk in his back while lifting a 2 pound package at work.  He always had a bad back and would throw it out from time to time, but this was different.  2 pounds.  Not benching or squatting hundreds and hundreds of pounds.  Grabbing a 2 pound box.  The doctor told him to lay flat for a number of weeks and that seemed to be working... at least we thought so.  What was really happening was that the disk was sitting on his spinal cord in such a way that it essentially "reset" his central nervous system.  This is the way I remember it being talked about.  It was so long ago, but I think I'm remembering it all correctly.  

The resulting disease from following the doctor's orders is called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy Syndrome.  The name has been changed in recent years to Complex Regional Pain Syndrome.  This website gives a good idea of what the disease entails.  Since the onset of this disease my dad has experienced more pain than I could ever imagine.  I've watched the strongest man in country slowly deteriorate down.  I've seen him through more surgeries than anyone should ever have to endure.  He has two spinal cord stimulators and a morphine pump in his body to help manage the pain, and even that isn't enough anymore.  Nerve endings have been burnt, spinal blocks have been done.   There was period of deep depression, much of which us kids didn't know about or see.  The muscles are gone.  The ability to move freely is being taken away slowly.  Walking, standing, sitting, laying... all painful.  

My dad, despite the pain he feels, still puts me and my family first.  I truly believe that there's nothing he wouldn't do for me... whether he was actually physically able or not.  While living at home sporadically for the past few years while in and out of Africa, I found myself easily annoyed at his slowness.  Or at his poor memory (pain killers will do that).  Or at his general old-man-ness, if that make sense.

But today when my back starting having spasms and the pain engulfed me, I was ashamed of myself.  Ashamed of my attitude in the past and also amazed at the strength my father still has.  It's not often that you'll hear him complain about the pain he's actually suffering, or the side effects that he has to deal with as a result of the so very numerous medications he's on.  When he calls me, it's to see how I'M doing and to tell me he's proud of me.  Astonishing.  My little back spasms (which are painful, yes) are nothing compared to the pain he has been dealing with for 18 years now.

To see the man he is today, knowing all that's he's gone through, I'm amazed.  And I'm proud.  He and my mom are amazing.  They are some of the most selfless people I've ever met.  My mom has now driven back and forth to Jersey twice... I've only lived here for two months.  What a blessing.  I don't have words that can express how incredibly lucky I am.

My mom has worked to provide for the family since my dad got hurt.  She has spent thousands of hours working at jobs that she didn't like, cooking delicious meals, cleaning, doing laundry, helping with homework, shopping, and so much more.  She has dropped everything to take care of us.  She has given us everything she has.  My mom is one of the most thoughtful people on earth, of this I'm fully convinced. Her needs are almost always secondary to our needs.  Under-appreciated and probably taken advantage of, but never complaining.  Incredible.  Beautiful.  Strong.  Loving.  Hospitable.  Selfless.  My favorite person ever.

God is so good.  He provides everything I need.  He provided me with outstanding parents who love and support me way more than I deserve.  My prayer tonight is for my parents, my whole family really.  My prayer is for them to come to know Jesus is a real and life-giving way.  The joy that I have comes from the Lord.  I want them to experience that joy.  I want them to know that knowing Christ doesn't fix every bad thing, but gives hope and eternity with our Maker.