Inspire, Summer 2004

Inspire 25 How many times have I said, “We never know what a day may bring forth”? Before early June of 2003, that statement was purely academic for me. The reality of that statement came when Dorothy and I sat across from the surgeon who looked at my dear wife and said, “You have non-Hodgkins aggressive lymphoma.” At that moment, a host of emotions and thoughts flooded my heart and mind: disbelief, dismay, confusion … how can it be? One hears about this, reads about it, but when the doctor says “you” have lymphoma, it is no longer academic, but very personal. I looked at my dear wife and she at me, completely unmoved. Later in my wife’s illness, I said, “May I ask you a difficult question? How do you really feel?” She said, “I am at peace and have been ever since the diagnosis.” This lightened the burden somewhat for me. When the initial storm passed and the clouds lifted, the peace of God gripped my mind and heart, giving me the assurance that God is in control and our lives are in His hands. All testing revealed that the lymphoma was only in the neck area and treatable. But that hope was soon dashed as after chemo and radiation, the lymphoma returned and really never left in spite of many more radiation treatments. Hopes of recovery faded as I watched her steadily decline in health and strength. On March 11, 2004 she passed into the presence of her Lord in the same manner as which she lived, very quietly and graciously. Through all of the treatments and side effects, she was a trophy of God’s grace as she never doubted His plan, never asked “Why me?”, but only said that God never places more on us than we can bear. I witnessed the grace of God operate in her life as He weaned her away from everything of this earth. Often I looked at all she loved and thought, “This is only ‘stuff ’ in the light of the glorious future soon to be hers.” As she thought about glory, I thought about the awful separation. How do I fill the place of someone so dear to me after nearly 58 years? Even now when I am among people, I turn to see where she is, or I think “I must tell Dorothy this, as she will be interested” or I want to share with her something I learned. As special days come — and for me this year they were Easter and Mother’s Day, days that were special family times — the one around whom all the attention centered was not here. For our children and me, Dorothy was always “Mother of the Year.” These are times that drive me to the precious promises that have sustained and comforted my heart in past days. Some of these promises are “… as thy days, so shall thy strength be,” and “The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms …” (Deut. 33:25b, 33:27a). God continues to minister to my grieving heart not only through His Word, but through many wonderful friends whom God has allowed Dorothy and me to meet and love through the years. God has surrounded me with caring, concerned, and loving friends at the University who continue to remind me of their prayers. My children live close by and are such a blessing and encouragement to me when I tell them how much I miss their mother. They brighten my day with their fond remembrances of her loving and gracious concern for them. My grandchildren have always been a delight to me, and I am looking forward to the wedding of Matthew ’04 in December. When I feel alone, God sends me an e-mail, a note, a card, a phone call, or an invitation to dinner from some caring servant. Daily I marvel at His grace as He enables me to live for His glory. I think how blessed Dorothy is now, and I have that “blessed hope” of seeing her and many others. I know that Dorothy would want me to carry on the wonderful ministry He has given, so each day I live and move by His wonderful, matchless grace, looking and listening for the “shout” from Heaven and “the trump of God … so shall we ever be with the Lord” (I Thess. 4:16-17). Ed Spencer has been teaching at Cedarville University since 1962. A professor of English, he is a beloved faculty member. That Blessed Hope B y E d S p e n c e r