quiet in the icu

One thing I have discovered, is that I have many testimonies of what God has done in my life. Some of them aren't known to everyone, until this blog of course. One in particular, I sort of lived out on social media. I will never forget the day that I walked into the ICU. It's exactly like you imagine it in your head. Doctors and nurses talking in hushed tones, beeping coming from every room, and strangers looking confused and desperate. As many of you know, my dad ended up in one of these rooms. What many of you don't know, is what my dad was like before. He was a stubborn man, who didn't believe in doctors, and could fix anything he touched. He was grumpy, but kind. He once rescued a opossum from under his house, because he couldn't bear the thought of killing it. He liked to tell stories and emphasized the best part, more than once. He would stop midsentence to remember the street name, long after people quit paying attention. He is the reason I even know who Tom Petty and John Cougar Mellancamp are. He worked on cars, and we always called him if ours was acting up. Most importantly, he was the strongest man I knew. He was my dad, my first hero. I don't know how you feel about your dad, or what type of relationship you have with him, but my dad has always been a rock in my life. He bails me out when I need help, and he always showed me love.  He was invincible. If I'm honest, I think even he believed that of himself.
Nothing can prepare you for seeing someone you love on a ventilator. Unless you have been there, you can't possibly imagine the punch to the gut, as your eyes scan everything in the room, and try to process how a machine could be breathing for them. And I was even scanning the room with nurse vision. You would be surprised at how quickly all of that just fades away. I'm not a nurse, I'm a daughter. A daughter who needs her daddy to be okay. Nothing can prepare you for the quiet of the ICU. Even with all the beeping, the quiet is the most deafening sound. Because in the quiet, your thoughts go wild. You're not sure what's next. You try to prepare yourself incase. You try to hope in spite. Your mind goes blank, and numb, and panicked, all at the same time. You feel too much, and nothing at all.
When I first got to the hospital, I passed a glass wall, inside one of the lobbies. It had white swirls on it. I remember walking so fast past this wall, and I just looked to my side for a split second. Immediately I saw that the swirls were words. Of course you couldn't see that from far away. The words that I saw said TRUST CHRIST. I couldn't even process it at the moment. I was racing to get to the ICU. All I knew at this point is that my dad, who was talking to me the night before, took a turn and was intubated. I know I spoke with the doctor, but none of the words penetrated my brain. I was aware of one thing, my dad might actually die. The strongest man I knew, was lying in a bed with tubes coming out of him like a monster. Then those two words slammed into me. Trust Christ. My dad wasn't living right. He didn't have a relationship with God anymore. He sought after things of this world. I kept thinking that God wants me to trust Him, but could I? Jeremiah 29:11 tells me that he has plans for me. Plans to prosper me, not to harm me. To give me hope, and a future. Did I believe Him? I did in the past when it came to changes in my life. But this was my dad's life. My dad's eternity. Did I trust Him?
I still remember watching the monitor, seeing his heart in afib. Seeing his blood pressure staying so low. Watching the medicine go into his IV, and the tube feed going down his throat. I remember me and my grandma taking shifts to watch over him. And giving each other report over text before we headed over to the hospital, because we couldn't wait until we got there. I remember as soon as I walked out of his room to go home, I wanted to turn around and come back. I was so torn. I missed my kids so much, but I needed to have eyes on my dad, I needed to see that he was okay.
I can still remember him waking up with the tube down his throat, and the terrified look in his eyes. I remember him mouthing the words "help me" around the tube, and feeling so useless. I remember holding his hand while he slept and wondering if I would ever get to hear his voice again. I remember being terrified of where he would go if he died. I remember so many things from that time. Things that I shouldn't have had to experience. Things that have changed me. Things that break my heart when I think about them.
But I remember other things. I remember deciding that I did trust God. I just had to look back in His word, even look back on my own life. I know He is faithful. He is always faithful. Whatever happens, He will use it to my good. I remember the morning I walked in and saw the most beautiful yellow sign. It said SBT, spontaneous breathing test. That meant they were going to let him try to breath on his own. I remember the day I got to send my grandma a text telling her that they took the tube out.  I remember hearing my dad's voice the second it came out, and the tears when he asked for me. I remember his heart going back into sinus rhythm. I remember my dad telling me that he wanted me to know that Jesus was his King and savior. I remember the day they moved my dad out of the icu. I remember the pastor going to visit him. I remember the day he got to leave the hospital.
I remember the day he came to church with me. The worship team played a hymn. One I hadn't heard before, and one they haven't played since. But when the song was over, my dad looked at me and smiled real wide. He whispered, "I know this song." I smiled back. God always has a way of letting you know that He knows exactly where you are. I remember seeing the salvation candle lit at the front of the church. And knowing it was lit because of my dad. The flame of the candle is the fire that burns inside my dad's heart now. The heart that's back in sinus rhythm.
My dad wasn't the only one changed. I remember the bond with my grandma  that had been broken a long time ago, restored. She started coming to church as well, deciding to give her all back to God. I also remember my little cousin telling me she wanted to go to church with us. That because of what happened with dad, she had no doubt it was God. My dad will be a part of her testimony of her coming to Christ.
As for me, I learned that I am to trust Christ. I trust Him in the valley. Because sometimes there's physical healing. Sometimes there isn't. But no matter what situation we face, He will give it purpose. He will use it to give us hope and a future. We need only to trust Christ. In the middle of the chaos, or in the quiet of an icu room.