Becoming Virtuous

This has been an interesting (and difficult) year on many levels. I’ll catch you up to speed (prepare for a whirlwind in long form).

My grandma (and my last remaining grandparent) died at the end of January. Of my grandparents, she was the one I was closest to, and I have many fond memories of her steady involvement in my life over the past three plus decades. On top of that, I’m not sure where she stood with the Lord. So her death hit really hard (and still does if I’m honest).

In mid-February, I confirmed that my health is still suffering due to a mold infection in my body, and that I’m very likely getting reintroduced to the mold through the house I live in. On my evening walk, I asked God to open doors to a new living situation, and at choir practice that night, the organist told me that she was buying a new condo and wanted to know if I’d rent it. The next day I posted pictures and an “ad” in a Facebook group I’m in for finding like-minded roommates, and within 24 hours I had a gal reach out who was interested in renting with me. We went and saw the place over the weekend, and things were looking like we might move into the condo in the next week or two. But then my potential roommate decided she needed a month-to-month lease (in case she got married later this year, which is fair), and I couldn’t find anyone else to room with me. I had prayed, it looked like God was answering my prayer, and then the door slammed in my face at the last minute. (At the same time, we all had to move out of our house for a week while the wood floors were refinished. Not super stressful, but it didn’t help.)

On a Sunday in early March, my dad had a sudden health crisis after coming back from an out-of-state debate tournament. He was home for less than an hour when he had a sudden onset of intense pain in his lower right abdomen. My mom took him to the hospital, but after taking his vitals the emergency medical staff didn’t care about the pain he was experiencing. His heart rate was at 180 BPM (think typical max heart rate if you’ve been sprinting all out for a race), and he couldn’t even tell his heart was racing. Mom said she looked up at one point and there were nine medical professionals standing around my father, trying to figure out what was wrong. After tests were run it was determined that he had atrial fibrillation (which had caused a blood clot that ended up in his kidney—hence the sudden pain) and congestive heart failure. He was admitted to the hospital, and as they monitored him over the next 48 hours, they said that his heart was at 20% function, his lungs were filling with fluid, and his kidneys and liver were also operating at about 30%. Tuesday morning, the doctor told Dad he was close to being transferred to ICU. We were suddenly faced with the reality that my dad might not live to see the end of the week. But God’s people prayed, and God moved because by the end of that same Tuesday my dad was doing significantly better. He ended up being in the hospital for almost two weeks and had several heart procedures done. But praise God, my dad left the hospital and is steadily improving.

Shortly before my dad’s health crisis, I had turned in my two weeks notice at my job so I could transition into an online trade school/internship opportunity. So while my dad was in the hospital and I wasn’t sure if he was going to live I was trying to train everyone in my department on how to do my job so there would be a smooth transition when I left. Talk about compounded stress! Then, on my last day of work, I got an email from the trade school that they had closed and I found myself suddenly jobless. I had sunk a few thousand dollars into pre-requisite classes, crammed through almost 150 credit hours of courses over the past five months, all for it to end with a short, simple email.

Throughout all of this I also experienced some incredibly painful relational strains and struggles that led to many tears and sleepless nights (and I’ll leave it at that).

And as I sat in the wreckage at the end of it all I was completely exhausted in every way possible. What an incredibly difficult six weeks—mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually. And I was also full of many questions. Why had God in several instances appeared to be answering prayers, only to slam the door in my face at the last second? Why did He answer my prayers for my dad’s healing, but denied my prayers for my own and seemingly trapped me where healing is impossible? Why did He keep opening doors for the trade school/internship, only to dramatically slam that door as well? Was there any point in praying or hoping for anything at all? Were my prayers just cluing God in on what *not* to do? Day after day, I went to God with these questions and more. I literally felt like David in Psalm 13, “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?”

Then in mid-April, we had in Colorado a late freeze right as many trees were just starting to leaf out. The result—thousands of trees in our neighborhood and the surrounding areas had dead baby leaves hanging from their forlorn branches. One of the species of trees that endured this was the Ash trees. And it hit me on a walk one day—my name literally means “grove of ash trees,” and here I was surrounded by dying Ash trees. They had waited long over the hard winter, and were right on the brink of realizing the culmination of growth and abundance, only to freeze and literally shrivel up in death. While other trees were thriving, covered in new growth, these Ash trees were stuck holding the shriveled hopes of yesterday. It was hard not to sob as I realized the potent metaphor for my own life.

And as I walked around the neighborhood, tears filling my eyes, I asked God, “Can these trees—can I—experience new life again? Is there any hope for us?”

(To be continued…)