In the Potter’s Hand

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I took a lump of clay and held it in my hands. I slapped it down, aiming for the centre of the wheel and missed the target I had made. I gathered it up, and slapped it down again. I was closer, but still off. I placed it in the centre and then smacked it down hard to help the clay stick to the wheel. I pushed my foot down on the pedal and the wheel began to turn. I pushed it harder and the wheel spun faster and faster and the lump of clay flew right off the wheel. I started over and began to get a feel of the wheel, managed to centre the lump, and began to mould the clay as I pressed into it with my hands.

It was the second time I had sat at a potter’s wheel.

What I imagined my finished handiwork would look like was far more elegant than the final result. In a unique way, I saw the beauty in it. But, you can see that it was inexperienced hands that gripped the spinning clay, not the hands of a potter that has developed their craft and precisely guides the lump into exactly the masterpiece he has intended.

As long as I relied on the experienced potter to give me direction and assistance, I was able to produce a lovely, modest piece of art. Left to my own, my lump of clay would have turned to a sloppy, wet, mucky pile of useless mess.

The first time I sat at a potter’s wheel, I held back for not wanting to make a mistake. The second time, I was a smidgen more familiar with the wheel and the clay, and a little less inhibited by my own inner critique, but still hesitant to charge ahead with any creativity.

I held on to that lump wanting to create something beautiful, but quite clueless as how to accomplish it.



My first opportunity at a pottery wheel, I had intended to fashion a bowl, but when the walls began to break down, I reworked the clay into a small plate. Recently, I had this second opportunity, and I managed to form a bowl. Although it will be functional, a keen eye will easily detect it is not a symmetrical bowl.

We laughed together as friends, as we took turns to sit at the wheel and watched each of our personalities wrestle with various aspects of the whole process.

Both times I tried my hand at pottery, I have grown in appreciation for the skilled artist who crafts stunning artwork on the wheel; who takes a lump of clay and turns it into practical and exquisite handiwork.

When I sit at the potter’s wheel, when I hold a lump of clay in my hands, I recognize that I have more in common with the lump of clay being transformed into something beautiful than with the potter holding the spinning clay with tender care and a gentle strength in his hands.

I have had a taste of what it is to be a potter. As my friends gathered in the little pottery workshop we recognized, with gratitude, that we are the clay that is sovereignly held in the hands of the Potter.

There can only be one potter at the wheel.



Several times in the Bible, God is portrayed as the potter to demonstrate His sovereignty. And we, his people, are the clay.

In the book of Jeremiah, chapter 18, we see that God commands Jeremiah to go to the potter’s house. Jeremiah obeys, and finds the potter working at his wheel. We read in verse 4:

“And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do.”

And in verse 6, we see the word the Lord delivered to Jeremiah and the prophet tells the people of Israel:

“O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter has done? declares the LORD. Behold, like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.”

The prophet Isaiah also calls the Lord, “our potter” as to demonstrate His power. In Isaiah 64:8 we read: 

“But now, O LORD, you are our Father;
we are the clay, and you are our potter;
we are all the work of your hand.”

And Paul, in Romans 9:20-24, says:

“But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, “Why have you made me like this?” Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use? What if God, desiring to show his wrath and to make known his power, has endured with much patience vessels of wrath prepared for destruction, in order to make known the riches of his glory for vessels of mercy, which he has prepared beforehand for glory—even us whom he has called, not from the Jews only but also from the Gentiles?”

These truths are so magnificent that our human understanding falls short of being able to comprehend God’s ways. How foolish it is for the clay to contradict or talk back to the potter?

In a song of praise, Paul writes in Romans 11:33:

“Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!”

We may at times think we are in the seat of the potter, fashioning a way for our selves, but don’t be fooled. God will do what is right. He will fashion the vessel according to his perfect will, just as He has done with the nation of Israel. And He will also build His church.



We may not understand it, but the truth is God is sovereign over all. He has a perfect plan for the world He made and the people He calls and redeems back to Himself.

Surrender to the potter, and trust Him as He continues to demonstrate His power and sovereignty in your life and in the world around you.

And join with Paul in Romans 11:36 with these words of praise:

“For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen.”

Held in the Storm

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It is after the storm passes. When the howling wind that pierced the heart hushes. The surging waves that smashed life to bits become still. And you realize you made it; you lived through it all. You survived. You are still standing.

That is when it hit me. Before the wild storm I thought I had living figured out--until life was almost snuffed out.

I fought and thrashed and floundered. Fought to live for my husband. Fought to live for my children. But when I had fought long and hard enough to keep on living, the frailty of life was too real and I became lost. Lost in the land of the living.

That is when I became afraid to live and scared to suffer anymore.





They say open-heart surgery can send you straight into depression. I fell hard. Into the darkness. Alone. I sunk to a seemingly bottomless pit.

I lost my way.

I lost my words.

I lost the wonder of life.

I became numb. Numb to the very thing I loved to proclaim: the goodness of God.

His grace was blazing like the sunshine splashing gold through the winter branches outside my window, but my eyes focused on the barrenness instead of the Light.

“My hope is built on nothing less

Than Jesus Christ, my righteousness;

I dare not trust the sweetest frame,

But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.”

And, looking away from the shining radiance, I began to sink, like Peter out on the turbulent sea.

Fear held me hostage. Fear does that. It will hold you back and make you withdraw. And you may wonder why God seems so silent.

When Peter stepped out of the boat and fixed his eyes on Jesus he walked on the water. When he saw the wind, he was afraid. When he looked away from the Lord, he tried to flee the danger and ended up withdrawing from the very One who would reach out to help him. And he began to sink.

It is faith that looks to Jesus. Peter had faith. And yes, Jesus reprimanded him for his “little faith”, but not until after He had reached out His hand and took hold of Peter. He held him secure and helped him to trust Him more.

He had already told Peter not to be afraid. He had already told him to: “Take heart, it is I”. He had already bid him to “come”. He had already told him to walk out amidst the storm and trust him. And after Peter falters and flails around in the sea, after Peter looks to the waves and begins to sink, Jesus reaches out his hand and takes hold of Peter and they get back into the boat and the wind ceased.

His anchor held him--through the storm and after the storm.

"When darkness veils His lovely face,

I rest on His unchanging grace;

In every high and stormy gale,

My anchor holds within the veil."

So, when fear grips us and we begin to sink, the Anchor holds us. He has gone before us. He will not let go.

“We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever.” (Hebrews 6:20-21)

My eyes looked away. Depression clouded my sight. Fear crept in and all I could think to do was to flee, to withdraw. And I began to sink.

I cried out for help, like Peter floundering in the sea.

And when I looked up away from my troubles and fixed my gaze on Jesus, I knew He never let go. He reached out and He took hold of me. The winds ceased. Life sails on. And, it is not a matter of if God is silent.

He has spoken:

“ . . . in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world. He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power. After making purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high . . .” (Hebrews 1:1-3)

The storms, they come. We have been battered and beaten. But, we have been held. He reaches out His hand and takes hold and gently nudges, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

Don’t look to the waves. Look to the One who made the seas and who has power over the waves.

“His oath, His covenant, His blood,

Support me in the whelming flood;

When all around my soul gives way,

He then is all my hope and stay.”

And after the storm you realize, yes, you made it. And through it your faith is strengthened and your joy is sweeter. Fear turns to awe. The glimpse of the glory you saw, you can’t gaze on it, but you look to the King of grace.

The wonder of His sovereign grace opens your eyes to see His goodness, the display of His righteous power stirs words of praise, and the eternal hope found in Him leads you home.

“When He shall come with trumpet sound,

Oh, may I then in Him be found;

In Him, my righteousness, alone,

Faultless to stand before the throne.

On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;

All other ground is sinking sand.”

When You Pass Through the Impassable

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Have you ever come to the edge of an impassable situation?

When the circumstances that lie before you bring life to a frightful halt?

Somehow you must go forward, but there is no foreseeable way to get to the other side of the obstacle surging ahead.

To do so requires more strength and courage than your weak body and weary soul could muster.

Have you ever stood on the brink of rushing waters with a longing to get to the other side, but with absolutely no sensible way to cross?

It’s easier to turn around and give up, give in to the cowardice that creeps in the corners of every heart.




But, there is hope. There is a sure way. There is obedience. There is trust.

There is this way that quiets the cowardice and builds strength and brings forth courage. It is the way of obedience. It is the way of faith. It is the way one walks when the Lord your God is with you.

When you are sure of the presence of the Lord you will pass though the impassible.

When you trust in the Lord God you will walk across your Jordon River on dry ground.





After Moses died, the Lord exalted Joshua to lead His people to the Promised Land. They had to cross the Jordon River to get to their place of rest. God had promised that He would give them this land to possess and He had shown Himself faithful to them over and over.

The Lord said to Joshua:

“Just as I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will not leave you or forsake you . . . Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”

Knowing the Lord is near kills fear and births courage.

The assurance that the Lord is with you is the strength you need to walk in obedience and the courage to pass the impassible and come to the place of rest.



I had come to an impassable place. I looked ahead and could not see a way forward. My body was frail. It had let me down. My mind was troubled. My soul was weary.

It was then that I longed to go clear across Canada to stand at the Pacific Ocean: the mighty ocean that means, “the peaceful sea”. Lying in the hospital in great turmoil, I wanted to feel the sand between my toes and breathe in the salt air and take our children across a beautiful land to show them all the mighty things God has done.

But, I couldn’t even walk to the end of a hospital bed. I could not breathe on my own and no one knew if I ever would again.

My heart had to heal from surgery. And bones had to regrow and nerves had to repair. My mind had to be restored.

I had to be strong and courageous. I had to stop the grumbling and see the good things God had done. I had to trust the Lord and know that He is with me.

He brings us to the brink of the Jordon to trust Him; to lead us to find our rest in Him.



Once the people of Israel crossed the Jordon, the Lord told Joshua to take twelve men—one man from each tribe--to take twelve stones out of the midst of the Jordon River and lay them down as a memorial. So that, in time, when their children would ask, “What do these stones mean?” they would say:

“‘Israel passed over the Jordon on dry ground. For the LORD your God dried up the waters of the Jordon for you until you passed over, as the LORD your God did to the Red Sea, which he dried up for us until we passed over, so that all the peoples of the earth may know that the hand of the LORD is mighty, that you may fear the LORD your God forever.’”

When we pass through the impassible, others see the mighty hand of God and we know without a doubt that it was God--and God alone--that brought us through. We are not to cower in fear at our circumstances, but we are to stand in awe of God’s majesty and acknowledge His goodness and worship Him forever.

Whatever is looming ahead, God is with you.

Whatever may seem impassible, God will make the way to pass through.

You must trust Him and obediently follow. It is a laying down of self. It’s the way of surrender. It’s the walk of faith.

That’s what I knew when I dipped my feet in the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Vancouver Island on the last day of June this year--the year Canada turned 150. The icy water at Long Beach stabbed at my toes and the soles of my feet turned numb as the sea-water splashed at my shins. My family plunged into the salty cold ocean, tried to ride a few waves on their bellies and shrieked with stunned laughter as every inch of their bodies tingled from being alive.

The wind whipped sand and strings of hair into my face as I turned out toward the vast ocean and knew that God, in His mercy, had brought me to this place. I can sing along with Horatio Gates Spafford:

“When peace like a river attendeth my way,

when sorrows like sea billows roll;

whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,

“It is well, it is well with my soul.”

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,

let this blest assurance control:

that Christ has regarded my helpless estate,

and has shed his own blood for my soul. 

My sin oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!

my sin, not in part, but the whole,

is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more;

praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul! 

O Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,

the clouds be rolled back as a scroll;

the trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend;

even so, it is well with my soul.”

By the work of Christ, He has brought us to rest in Him. We were without hope. We were without a way to pass through. But Christ has brought us back to Himself and gives us life, fills us with hope.

See what the Lord has done? He brings us to the impassible and leads us to the place of rest.

What Motherhood Has Taught Me: Joy, Peace and Hope in the Journey

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April 13, 2001 I woke in the murky darkness of a new day hours before the sun rose like a beacon of hope. I was alone the moment I saw the first sign that the baby I had carried in my womb for 38 weeks would soon be in my arms.

I had done nearly everything I could do to prepare for this new life, but, in that moment, I sat in stunned uncertainty and curious expectation.

I was still sitting dumbstruck when I heard the front door creak open and Jon, getting home from a long day of work, found me wide-eyed with anticipation. I told him that I was possibly going to have our baby on that very day.

You know what he did?

He decided since I was still early I was probably in false labour and we should get some rest. The instant he flopped in to bed sleep stole him far away from the raging storm of emotions and escalating groans beside him.

So, you know what I did?

I called my mom at two in the morning to see if I really was about to have a baby.

Still not sure if this was the real deal, I shuffled my way upstairs, turned the computer on, waited as the old fashioned dial-up screeched in the silence and lazily connected to the world wide web so Google could confirm that I was absolutely for sure, going to have a baby.

I became a mother on Good Friday.

There are times when it looks like hope has been tucked away in a tomb only to rise again and bring forth joy and peace.





At 7:02 pm after 18 hours of intense laboring, my firstborn sucked in her first breath of air and let out a lusty shriek that took my breath away.

I held new life in my arms, completely unsure of what to do next.

My body had split open and life slipped out and love burst forth from my wildly beating heart. Cries of anguish turned to tears of joy as I recognized God’s abounding grace in that moment.

A mother’s heart holds these cherished memories. From the moment of those first butterfly flutters, first suckle, first smiles, first steps, to the sleepless nights, scraped knees, shattered dreams, relentless sorrow.







We cultivate and nourish deep roots so our children will mount up with wings and soar.

A mother’s heart knows hope.

A mother’s heart can break over a thousand sorrows and by God’s steady stream of grace, pulse with joy and peace.

On August 28, 2014 I watched my children bravely walk out of a hospital, leaving their mother behind fully aware a doctor was going to do his best to help fix my broken heart.

What they didn’t know was how my wildly beating heart shattered to a million pieces as they walked out that door. No doctor could fix this heartache. My husband couldn’t fix this. Calling my mom or dad couldn’t fix this. Google couldn’t help me at all.

For fourteen years I had been a mother.

Once again I sat in uncertainty and again I had to let go and surrender them entirely to the Lord.

I had one thing I could do. One thing.

Trust the God of hope.

I didn’t know what would happen when the surgeon held my stilled heart in his hands, but I trusted the God who holds all things.

The God of hope picks up all the shattered pieces and makes us whole and causes joy and peace to overflow as we trust in Him.





So even as we daily lay ourselves down in the crucible, we are filled with all joy and peace and hope rises to overflowing.

Even in the shattering you shall go out with joy and be led forth with peace.

Consider Paul’s prayer in Romans 15:13:

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

First we will ask:

How do we get this surest joy and truest peace?

We are filled with all joy and peace by trusting in the God of Hope. God is the source of joy and peace. The faith that God plants in us reaps joy and peace.

God will fill us with all joy and peace as we trust in Him.

This faith comes from God.

As we take our eyes off of ourselves and trust Jesus Christ, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, we are filled with all joy and peace.

The next thing we should ask is:

What exactly is joy and peace?

Joy is God’s grace recognized.

Faith looks to Jesus Christ and sees all of God’s promises in Him. He is our eternal hope of glory.

When we see all of God’s grace poured out in Christ to us we are filled with an inner delight in God. Our soul will find complete satisfaction in Him – this is joy!

Peace is God’s gift of joining together into wholeness. He takes our sinful brokenness and makes us right with God. Christ came to bring us back to God. He heals the brokenhearted.

Charles Spurgeon said, “Peace is joy resting and joy is peace dancing.”

Finally, we will ask:

What is the result of being filled with joy and peace?

Notice the “so that”. There is an end goal of this joy and peace. “so that you may overflow with hope”

We start with the God of hope. Everything starts with God. God is the author and object of hope. God produces hope.

He works faith in us and in believing in Christ Jesus and his atoning work on the cross we are filled with all joy and peace.

And this leads to us overflowing in hope -- a lively expectation of what is certain.

Hope leads to joy and peace with leads to more hope! An eternal hope.

Christ is our anchor of hope. He holds us steadfast and strong and in Him we abound in hope.

This is not willing ourselves to grasp passing pleasures or pin down illusive peace, but a prayer that the joy and peace that come from faith in God will fill the heart that keeps on trusting the God of hope.

Now we come to the end of the prayer: “by the power of the Holy Spirit.” We are not alone in this journey.

Whatever we face, by God’s grace we can be sure that we can be filled with all joy and peace in believing by the power of the Holy Spirit.

As we cling to this promise, let us give thanks for this triad of graces God tenderly cultivates in the soil of our souls – full joy and peace, and abounding with hope.

Even When the Way is Impossible: Go Forward

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Jon told me the way Dr. David walked into the waiting room, with a heavy weight on his shoulders, and weariness etched on his face, made him think I had not survived the surgery. He had anticipated not being able to take in all the finer details so he hit record on his phone as my surgeon began to speak. 

“Well, that was not good. It was worse than I expected.” he stammered. And right there Jon thought I was gone.

My surgeon continued: “I think the radiotherapy blasted the whole thing together—the heart, lung, the old lung—became like cement. It was very, very difficult. But, it was all done (cheers erupted at this point) . . . no, no, no you can’t celebrate yet, that was a lot of surgery. It was extreme . . . twice the anesthetist said, ‘I thought you were going to stop the operation and close her up’ and I said, ‘Well, if you close her up, you are sentencing her to death, then, she will die for sure.’” He paused briefly. “But, it’s not 100% . . . she could die tonight, tomorrow, next month, next year . . . that was a bad operation with one lung, a tragedy actually . . .”

For 13 minutes Dr. David described how he had to carve out cement–like dead tissue around and in my heart and put in plastic and steel hardware in whatever healthier tissue he could find. He didn’t know if I would heal with all the hardware inside me. All we could do was wait.

Jon stopped recording when my surgeon walked away and waves of intense sobs from relief and heartbreak shook his whole body.



No one knew if I would wake up.

Those hospital halls were foreign land to Jon that night. He wandered this wilderness to find me under a warming air blanket and hooked up to machines that lit up like a Christmas tree. Late into the night, he returned to his hotel room to rest knowing the days to come would be difficult and intense.

My older sister sat by my bedside all that night. She refused sleep to come to her eyes. I wasn’t going to die on her watch. She held my hand, never letting go of hope. She was there when my nurse attempted to wake me up the first time. Hours later she was there when the nurse took the breathing tube from out of my mouth and leaned down to tell me: “Rebekah, you did it.” She echoed my cry: “The Lord did it all! Thank-you God.”

The Lord did do it. The Lord has done great things and we are full of joy.

But, this joy was not in the absence of great anguish and pain.

Somehow joy and sorrow mingle. 

By the end of 80 days in that intensive care unit, Jon had worn a path in those halls. My surgeon had hoped there would be no further complications and that I could be sent home after seven days. But, after seven days I was not well. For weeks my body wasted away and I started to doubt whether we had made the right choice to risk surgery. In my distress, I wished I could go back to August 28th and refuse the operation.

I began to grumble. Tears streamed from my eyes. Thoughts turned sour. Grief walled me in. Fear held me captive.

I felt trapped. Literally in an 8x8 foot ICU room. Separated from my children. With an uncertain road ahead. 



Two months after my surgery, the head nurse came to chat with me. From years of caring for cardiac patients she knew how to be compassionate and how to craft a motivating pep talk. With gentle firmness she told me: “Crying and feeling sad is ok, but you can’t go back and wish you made a different decision. This is the choice you made and you need to go forward.”

The struggle was real. There was no easy way out.

I could identify with the Israelites: grumbling, bitterness rising, hope diminishing. I had left a very unhealthy place and now I needed to go forward.

Did I trust that God who had brought me to this place would see me right through?

Consider the exchange of words after God had led the people of Israel out of slavery in Egypt:

“ . . . the people of Israel lifted up their eyes, and behold, the Egyptians were marching after them, and they feared greatly. And the people of Israel cried out to the LORD. They said to Moses, ‘Is it because there are no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness?. . . it would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness.’ And Moses said to the people, “Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the LORD, which he will work for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again. The LORD will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.’

The LORD said to Moses, ‘Why do you cry to me? Tell the people of Israel to go forward. Lift up your staff, and stretch out your hand over the sea and divide it, that the people of Israel may go through the sea on dry ground.’”

The people of Israel were in a hard place between the Red Sea before them and the host of Egyptians behind. This was an impossible situation. They could not see a way out. But God wanted them to trust Him; to look not on what they could see, but what they knew of Him to be true.

And this is what they were to do:

Number 1: “Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the LORD, which he will work for you today.”

Number 2: “The LORD will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.”

Number 3: “go forward”

This is what we are to do when faced with an impossible situation. When we are pressed with tragedy or trial we are to trust God and keep walking by faith.

Fear not, stand firm and look to God—To not fear is to be fully confident of God’s presence and protection. He is the one at work so He will get all the glory.

Be silent--quiet your mind, be still and know that He is God and that He will be with you in whatever you are called to endure.

Go forward--you can’t stay at the edge of the sea. One step at a time, your faith must be demonstrated by obedient actions.

We can’t go back. Trust God and go forward.

Refuse to trust and obey Him and you will certainly die as sure as if my surgeon had stopped the operation and closed me up, sentencing me to death.

But God makes the sea into dry land so we can go forward into the midst of the sea and on the other side, sing victoriously:

“The Lord is my strength and my song,
and he has become my salvation;
this is my God, and I will praise Him,
my father’s God and I will exalt Him. . .

You have led in your steadfast love
the people whom you have redeemed . . .”

God Guides the Best Pathway For Your Life {One Thing Our Marriages Desperately Need Today ~~ A Husband's Heartfelt Words as His Wife's Heart was Weak for #HeartMonth}

{To read Part 1, the beginning of the series:

"A Husband's Heartfelt Words as His Wife's Heart Was Weak"

click here first.}

The walls seemed to close in more and more. The oxygen line plugged into the wall that I was attached to became more like a leash than an aid to breathing. I was so eager to go home that the head nurse would tease me that she was keeping a close eye on me that I didn't attempt to sneak home on one of my walks out of the CVICU.

It was all by God's mercy and grace that I did leave those walls and the hospital. It was also terribly overwhelming.

So much healing had now taken place, but there was an enormous amount of healing that was still necessary. Some of which I had never even anticipated.

We were thrilled that I was being transferred to another care centre that would facilitate my needs in order to get me home safely. We had no idea how difficult that transition would be—both emotionally and psychologically.

The few days before I was transferred nurses, doctors, respiratory therapists, pharmacists—the people we had connected with for the past 80 days—came to say good-bye and send us on our way. We had so much to rejoice in and we proclaimed God's faithfulness in it all. We had been forever changed in this journey and not the least with me having a better functioning heart.

We continued to more forward filled with much gratitude and trusting that God was leading us and with us every step of the way.

Set up in our new location in the city, Jon sent an update on November 19:

I have actually surfed before, but only on the web. I have 'Googled' things that I have wanted to know or learn more about. I've entered coordinates and destinations to allow remote satellites to trace a route or draw a path to a destination. We have neat tools, in this age of 'instant', to know, be informed, and map our way. But these tools can't accurately gauge our purpose for living, or map our life, guide our future, or determine our destiny.

Psalm 32:8- The LORD says, "I will guide you along the best pathway for your life. I will advise you and watch over you." 

Another translation says that He will instruct and teach us the best way to go . . . His eye is always upon us. I take comfort in this reality that I never stray from the gaze of my Maker.

We got word coming into this past weekend that there was an opening at the West Park Healthcare rehabilitation facility for Rebekah to be transferred. This came quicker than we originally anticipated because there is a waiting list and many hospitals send people there—but a big push and faster priority is given to transferring patients from intensive care units. I wondered if there was a bigger reason we were meant to spend 80 days in ICU and not move to the general recovery unit earlier. There are certainly policies and safety precautions but when I apply Psalm 32:8 in a situation like this, the picture becomes clearer.

On Monday we were patient transferred from Toronto General Hospital, out of the heart of the city, and we are now at West Park Healthcare Centre. Our purpose here is for us to receive training and to set Rebekah up with her home sleeping Bi-PAP equipment. She has had more blood work follow up here, wound care, her PICC line was removed today, a walk test to check oxygen levels, chest X-ray and ECG.

It's still a fight to keep fluids out of her lung, and as we set our sights to going home soon, we need to make sure that can be done safely and everything including home oxygen and her medication cocktail is in place to transition and continue recovery from home. Rebekah will continue as an out patient from West Park once she leaves, for ongoing monitoring and periodic sleep checkups down here for the months to come in order to adjust her equipment settings. 

For a while, the majority of her limited outings will be for medical purposes as its crucial she doesn't get a bad chest cold, congested, or come down with pneumonia again. Please continue to pray for her in this and also that her breathing, diaphragm and INR stabilize and be functional moving forward.

Rebekah's body has adapted to so much over 38 years of life. A lot of it baffles the doctors that care for her. Sometimes her numbers don't seem to make sense as medically she is somewhat a mystery. She sits up and smiles, and challenges others with her faith and courage even with blood gas numbers sometimes in a range that would put me flat on the floor. One doctor recently at TGH who did an oxygen saturation test with supplied oxygen support removed for over half an hour, said she shouldn't be even communicating in that range she was showing—and with the print out numbers she should be turning blue—even though the monitors were showing low, but still a safe range for her.

Again, we have to look beyond the numbers, beyond the medicine and testing, beyond the knowledge and techniques, assumptions and results, all the way to Psalm 32:8 and rest with full assurance.

Again, The LORD says, "I will guide you along the best pathway for your life. I will advise you and watch over you." 

-Jon

{I was discharged home and we were all overjoyed to be united again as a family on November 21, 2014 to continue to recover from my open-heart surgery on August 29, 2014.}

~.~.~.~.~.

This is the final part of the series:

One Thing Our Marriages Desperately Need Today ~~ A Husband's Heartfelt Words as His Wife's Heart was Weak

{for #HeartMonth.}

You can read Part 1, the beginning of the series here.


Thank you to the faithful readers who encouraged us along this part of our pathway.

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