I probably shouldn't be posting this, because it is still tentative, but I am just too excited not to:
Ryan is coming home!
Some doctors still need to sign off on it, but it looks like he will be moving to outpatient this evening.
I know he is eager to get out of the hospital, and I am eager to have him back in the house. So is the cat, who has decided my toes are not as tasty as Ryan's and has been lurking around the door waiting for him to come in for weeks.
One thing Ryan will have to get used to when he gets home: there is no button he can push to have chocolate pudding brought to his bed. He's been pretty trigger-happy with that button at the hospital, so it may take some time for him to withdraw. If anyone knows of any sort of intravenous pudding-delivery device, please let us know.
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In November of 2006, Ryan Marc Vander Wall was diagnosed with advanced cancer. This page will serve as a place for family and friends to connect with him during this difficult time.
3 comments:
yay! And it's snowing! Isn't it pretty?
If you need anything - even chocolate pudding let me know.
I meant it when I told Kendra to add me to the list of potential servants - er um - I mean helpers. ;)
Heather
Hi Ryan, Kendra, family and friends,
Yesterday, our computers here at the church were down (we blew a circuit because an electric heater, a copy machine, a microwave, a coffee maker, and a printer were all on the same circuit! I only mention it because it's a picture of life, maybe even your lives right now: when too many difficulties are drawing down upon our spiritual reserves, we can buckle inside for awhile. One of my favorite quotes from Jesus Christ was the time he simply said to his disciples, "Come apart, and rest awhile."
On to the serious stuff. Like Kendra said right at the beginning of her comment about God's plan last Sunday, "Times like this bring our spiritual questions in even the least spiritual of us."
And the biggest question, perhaps, is "Why???"
I have two very dear friends who've been diagnosed with cancer right now. I played racquetball with one for 20 years. Rick's just 55. The other is a wife and a mother of three (one of whom is just a freshman in highschool). Her cancer is so advanced, there is nothing to be done medically. I talked with her this noon, and she's not sure she'll make it to Christmas. She's only 50.
Tough. Really tough.
But neither of them would so much as blink an eye at the claim that their personal story is all part of God's divine plan, mysterious as it might be to them. And, as a result, both exhibit an irenic spirit that awes me.
The reason for that is something most people, I imagine, might never guess: they actually see their own personal story as part of a bigger story.
Kinda like those suicide bombers in Iraq. They gladly give up their lives for "the cause" because they see their own lives as part of an immense enterprise worth laying them down for.
Christians see all their suffering as part of another, and so much grander story, and that is what gives our suffering meaning.
That's the staggering story of a man who was widely admired for his wisdom and compassion, his power and his goodness. He even challenged his critics to name one sin he had ever committed, and they had nothing to say. He was that good. Yet he was subject to the most cruel of deaths, at the young age of 33. He was mercilessly slaughtered by religious people, using Roman soldiers to do their dirty work. It was one of history's greatest atrocities.
What is so significant is that he claimed to be God, so that, if his claim is true, then God himself experienced what Ryan and Kendra are experiencing: something really bad happening to good people.
All of which is to simply say, "If there is a God, and if Jesus was God, then God knows from personal experience what it's like to be die "unfairly."
And, it was all part of God's plan, even though the experience of being abandoned by his Father was so unbearable for Jesus he did cry out too: "Why?"
But he believed it was purposeful, and so he accepted it. It gave his death meaning.
(The meaning, and this is not incidental, is that he believed that his death was for us--more on that another day.)
If there is no plan, then everything, including our undeserved suffering, is pointless.
The thing is, most people will say that if they can only see the plan in it, they might accept their suffering more readily.
But that is a luxury not often given us. My friends, Rick and Sandra, haven't been given a single clue, though they have seen their final battle used for no small amount of good. People have shown such love, such compassion. It's softened many hearts, and revealed just how deep the love of friends really runs. Some beautiful things have surfaced. But, still, it's mostly wrapped in mystery.
For them, it comes down to faith: to a belief that the God "up there" is actually a Father, with a Father's heart, who knows precisely what they are going through. He was here. He tasted it first hand, in his Son, with whom he is One.
And this is what simply carries them.
Thanks again, friends, for taking the time to read this.
Warmly,
Pastor Ken Koeman
Ryan,
I'm so glad you going home!
I've been praying for you.
OOOOOOO
Linnette
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