Villagersonline : blogs : rodhugen : Medical leave

From: rodhugen
Date: Mon Dec 17 01:13:58 EST 2007
Subject: Medical leave

Responses
andrea: response (12/17/07)
russ: we love ya (12/18/07)

clrclady: I agree (12/24/07)

emergentpadre: What we value (12/25/07)

Responses (sorted by date)
emergentpadre: What we value (12/25/07)
clrclady: I agree (12/24/07)
russ: we love ya (12/18/07)
andrea: response (12/17/07)

Forty years ago Dad was sick. He spent his days in bed, oxygen hoses wriggling across the floor from the tanks outside in a desperate attempt to help him breathe. He would be dead in a year, and the doctors tried to prepare us for that. He was an invalid. Not able to work and do the things men do to provide for their families. I just realized what a horrible looking word ‘invalid’ is. In-valid. Not valid. Not having a place. Day after day he would be in bed.
Some people didn’t believe he was sick. They thought he was faking it in order to not have to work. They thought he was lazy and no good. Rumors like that get around and I must have heard them. Or maybe I just remember my mother’s fear of what ‘people thought’. Kids were cruel. They made fun of him and were frightened of him at the same time. He was weak and not like other dads.
Doctors said he couldn’t work. Shouldn’t work. That he should take it easy and rest. I remember the awful struggle he had just to walk across a room. I remember how he lied to people when they asked him how he felt. He would say, “With my fingers,” and they would laugh and he would get away with not having to say the truth. The truth that he was suffocating to death from the late stages of emphysema. And he never talked about the shame he must have felt for not working. Not providing. Not doing what men are ‘supposed’ to do. If he felt those things, he kept it to himself.
Tonight Eric told you all that I am on a medical leave. That I am in a lot of pain and that it is better for me to be on pain medicine than it is for me to try to be a pastor while struggling with pain. It is hard to be an invalid. The Liar shouts in my ear and I have to fight to hear the truth. He tells me that I am making it up. He tells me that I just need to toughen up. He tells me I’m not valuable. He tells me I’ll be paralyzed if I have surgery. He tells me I’m being punished for sin. He tells me the doctor’s won’t do anything, because it is no big deal. He tells me it is all in my head. He points out all the people in ‘real’ pain, who don’t take medical leave.
I have long taught you, my beloved ones, that your value is not found in what you ‘do’. I have long taught you that you are dearly loved and pursued by a Father whose essence is Love. I have long taught you that he does not let go of those he loves. I guess it was long overdue that he would teach me the same truths. Please pray with me that in the middle of my medical leave, I will know that I am not measured by what I do. Please pray with me that I will remember that I am dearly loved and pursued by my Abba. Please pray with me that he will surround me with his gracious arms and hold me in my fear and shame and please remind him of his promise that he does not let go of his kids.
Thank you for your graciousness. Eric said that I have the gift of mercy and that you should watch me to learn the secrets of showing loving kindness. I hear your stories. I weep for your pain. I try to imagine myself in your shoes. I have most often done that from a position of strength or, sinfully, an imagined position of superiority. How that must have weighed on you. How that must have made the Liar’s lie more believable. So God has allowed my the privilege of pain for a season. To humble me, I hope. To allow me to better administer the gift of mercy. To be able to truly enter into your sufferings and struggles. To be slow to give advice and quick to mingle my tears with yours. To feel your shame and your inadequacy. To understand a little better what it means to be invalid and an invalid.
That is enough for tonight. I’m going to go pop some Vicadin and tell the Liar to go to hell. And then give thanks to the Lover for his love, that has been made evident to me in his loved ones.

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From: andrea
Date: Mon Dec 17 18:03:33 EST 2007
Subject: response

Rod, we love you in your brokenness too! You are precious to us and to the Lover of our Soul. You will never be an invalid. You sharing your weakness gives us permission to not pull ourselves up by our bootstraps also. This was a lesson I learned well, too.
Thanks for sharing your struggle.

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From: russ
Date: Tue Dec 18 13:53:36 EST 2007
Subject: we love ya

I want to say something deep here, but I don't have the words for it. So I'll just say that you are our 6'8" teddy bear/dad/pastor, and that isn't going to change, no matter what happens to your body.

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From: clrclady
Date: Mon Dec 24 17:37:18 EST 2007
Subject: I agree

I agree with Russ, and I want you to know that you are dearly loved.

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From: emergentpadre
Date: Tue Dec 25 15:49:53 EST 2007
Subject: What we value

Hey, Rod,
I think that people leap way to quickly to "I know what you're feeling", and so I hesitate to say it that way, but I can tell you that Lindi and I have struggled with similar issues, not just due to her illness, but due to various times where we have been forced to "step out of the game" because of finances, broken relationships, or other issues.
I know that Lindi has struggled a lot with self worth over the years, since she has been unable to work. When I tell people, "Lindi can't really do house work", she gets afraid that they will think that she does nothing at all at home... which is not true at all. She works hard to do housework, but there are a few normal tasks that she is completely unable to do, and many others that she is normally in too much pain or too tired due to her illness to do. She struggles with the same things that you mentioned. Both the Lord and I have had to continually remind her that her value is not in what she does (for me or for anyone else), but in her heart and soul. She constantly enriches my life with her thoughts, her reading and teaching in our home, and her unique and loving perspective on life, love, theology, and other topics. That is her value to me.
Likewise, I have struggled at times when I was prevented from contributing to others because of my own physical handicaps (back, knees, hips, and others), or because a pastor or other leader told me and others that I had nothing valuable to contribute, or because I did not have a job where I could earn money for my family, and contribute to someone with my skills, abilities, and gifts.
In response to your post, I can only echo what you yourself said. He who would cause you to believe that you have no value during this time of pain and sickness is indeed a Liar. I know you have personally ministered to both of us many critical times during the last couple of years, but your True Value to us (and I expect to the rest of the Village), is just your presence, just being you, just demonstrating the unique portion of the image of God that He put in you.
Of course, we appreciate the many times where you have "done" something for us. I tried to enumerate these personally, and gave up after I lost count. However, your value, like all of ours, is not "what you do", but "who you are".
In the same way, it is easy for us to love and appreciate God for what he does. Indeed, that is a good thing. But, we do not Love Him because of what he does, but because of who He is. As someone wiser than I has stated, "Lord, I want to seek your face, not your hands".
I am sure you know that our sorrow is great that we are not going to be able to stay in Tucson and "be" at the village. While we will always be a part of this community, it is not practical for us to make it our church home from 125 miles away. However, we hope to be down often, and continually thank God for the Village family and the relationships we have forged here. We hope and plan to be "friends of the Village" even as we live in Phoenix.
And you can count on us to pray for you as you requested.
In love and in Him,
Larry

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