When Ian and I first married, we lived in an old, run-down house on the outskirts of our small town. Even though the house wasn’t much to look at, we made it our home and were very happy there. Hurricane Allen, however, threatened to destroy our peaceful existence as it began its frightening descent on the Gulf of Mexico, so Ian bought some plywood and boarded up the windows to keep us safe. If anything, the boards made the place look better!
Thankfully, the hurricane didn’t do much damage, but unfortunately, the windows stayed boarded up for a long time. Ian thought it was funny and since we didn’t have much money, he liked the fact that it helped our utility bill! The boarded-up windows became a joke, and my jolly husband threatened to leave them up until Christmas so he could decorate them. I finally prevailed, and he removed the boards.
I spent Saturday in the hospital room of Ian’s 88-year-old mother who fell and broke her pelvis last week. His mother is practically blind and the drugs are having a detrimental effect, confusing her abilities to understand where she is and what is going on and also changing her overall personality and perspective. Plus she’s in pain. And my husband is in pain, too, as he watches her. And I’m in pain, as well, as I watch him watch her.
The hurricane that began its frightening descent last week on our family threatens to wreck havoc on the life of my mother-in-law and also on the lives of all who love her, and boarding up the window of her hospital room won’t protect anyone from the damage. And once more, it’s close to Christmas.
The last thing I wanted to do this past weekend was watch my husband hurt. I can board up the windows of my soul faster than a hammer can drive a nail in a board. I can shut down my emotions quite quickly because I’d rather shut them down than hurt. Sometimes when I don’t cry, I’m in more pain than when I do.
But as I watched my husband watch his mom, God tore off another board on the window of my heart and showed me – in that hospital room where I didn’t want to be -- a picture of his love. As I watched my sweet husband watch his beloved mother, I saw his heart ache with more than his own sadness and pain; instead, I saw a heart that desperately desired to help her, to make her situation better, and to take away her pain. I saw a man’s love not focused on his own heartache, but completely focused on how he could help the one he loved. In that hospital room, I saw the way God looks at us.
Nana’s hospital room has a window, but what I saw was inside that room, not outside. I saw God’s love in that hospital room. And I love my husband now even more, which I didn’t think was possible. And even though Nana can’t see outside her hospital window nor can she see with a clear perspective, others are watching out for her. She may be blind, but her son isn’t. Nor is God.
We can board up our windows at different times – not just during hurricanes or hospitals. We board them for protection, we board them because we’re afraid, we board them because we don’t know what danger is out there. During Hurricane Allen, we boarded our windows because it was necessary; but when it became quite clear that it was time to take them down, we didn’t remove the boards for a long time.
As I look out my back window this morning, I see the beginning of a brand new day, a day where God’s window of opportunity is open for us to see him watching us wherever we are. A day where boards might not keep out all the heartache that life can bring. But a day where God’s love is still there. In hurricanes or in hospital rooms.