Wow! I should have guessed that when I shared my harrowing health experience several weeks ago (blog post here) there would be a lot of response. I was amazed both by the number of people who wrote in reaction but by the depth of their wisdom and honesty. I’ve captured, here, some of their insights. I’m sure you will be as moved as I was.
Before I do, an update. I am feeling pretty good…mostly back to normal. Follow up blood tests have not revealed anything new. So, I guess it will go down as “unprovoked” blood clots and embolisms. The emotional and mental recovery continues but even that is quickly becoming a memory. Again, thank you for your care and responses! Let’s, together, enjoy the wonder of life, the love of each other and the purpose we were created for!
Thank you to the friends who shared these insights…
There really is no way to prepare for our transition from this world to the next except through our relationship with Jesus Christ—and, I suppose, through the kind of thoughtful care you took in making sure there were no mysteries left behind when you returned home.
But your story isn’t over—not by a long shot. There’s still work to be done… like finishing that book! Maybe this “what now” season is an invitation to slow down a bit—to simply be—to spend more time with Penny, enjoy your grandchild and your kids, and soak in the blessings that surround you. Wherever you are, you’ll always find ways to inspire, encourage, evangelize, and shepherd others. God has a way of placing us exactly where we need to be, even when we feel like we’re wandering aimlessly. Craig Thurston
This is a bit clumsy but in the six years that I have been retired, I have been confronted with the difference between making meaning, creating meaning, and inhabiting meaning….
Inhabiting meaning… I think that’s what I would describe that we are both feeling…. Do you know that I heard Rachmaninoff’s Piano number 2 through my speakers when I had a recent MRI? I’ll never forget the first time I heard it… It was at the Klein Memorial in Bridgeport Connecticut. David Bar-Ilan was doing a dress rehearsal. I sat in the balcony and was transfixed… The piano literally moved across the stage…. I was in high school…
Inhabiting meaning… I do think that grandchildren help us with that… To see a grandchild giggling over popping soap bubbles or finding a perfect acorn on the path and needing to take it home or grinning after a soccer game in which he has scored a PK or dancing and dancing and dancing or just nestling into my chest as she drifts off to sleep…..
Inhabiting meaning – maybe I’m mixing it up with the Immanuel practices …. But I think it’s about grabbing a positive memory and enjoying it and engrossing yourself in it so that you are inhabiting it again…. Laurie Hartman
Your email made me revisit that and realize I’m back to living in a face-paced week, being tired of work, yada yada. It’s challenged me to say, “Now what, a couple years down the road?” I don’t know how to keep ahold of the thoughts of keeping the mundane as a gift day in and day out other than being mindful by writing it and posting it on my mirror, in my car (I remember driving home alone and looking at couples in the car next to me and wishing for it), and on the fridge. Exposure helps me prioritize maybe. I appreciate you sharing your story. Thank you! I’m so glad your doc said to go to the ER and you are recovering. Wishing you continued health and revelation as you keep unpacking it day by day. Cheri Davis
Your letter hit me harder than I expected. You described the experience of suddenly feeling your own mortality — that breathless, out-of-nowhere moment when life demands your full attention. I’ve had my own version of that lately over the past two years, and your words felt like they were written right into my life.
Over the past few months, I’ve been walking through some things that have changed me too. Watching family fight through health problems and seeing my wife go through her own struggles and transformation — it’s reminded me how fragile everything is, and how much we take for granted until something shakes us awake.
Your question — “What now?” — has been sitting heavy with me. For me, it’s meant slowing down enough to notice what God’s showing me in the middle of the noise. It’s meant being more present with Sharon, family, and the dogs, more grateful for the small stuff, and more intentional about how I spend my time. Like you, I’ve found myself paying attention to things I used to overlook — the sound of the house when it’s quiet, a dog sleeping peacefully, even just breathing in that sense of “still here.”
You said something that stuck with me — that not all suffering has a reason, but meaning can still be found in it. I’ve seen that up close this year. God may not always answer “why,” but He keeps showing me “what now.”
Thank you for including me in your reflection. I’m glad you’re recovering, and I’m grateful for your honesty — it’s rare and refreshing. You’ve reminded me that even in hardship, there’s purpose waiting to be lived. John Graham
When it was all said and done, it took me probably 5 years to learn how to truly live freely again. I discovered how it felt to live in the glory of God’s creation and gifts in a body that was no longer betraying me. Yet, my body couldn’t do the very thing that God calls us to do. To give life. To make a family and to raise believers. It was a long journey and some days are still hard. But I’m here and have a paint brush in hand to prove it.
I’m now 22 years past that final surgery, I retired in May of 2024 and I’m an artist full time. Throughout the journey in my 20s and 30’s I always said “I’m going to paint for a living when I retire”. While we never know if our dreams will come true, I believe God heard my cries, my hopes and dreams. And here I am…super fortunate to be painting every single day, selling my work and loving where I am now. I could not be more grateful. Mary Ann Lucas (reflecting on her own health struggles)
It’s not why but what. In my own experience the “why” is elusive, like a fog or mist, you can’t grab it and hold it but it’s there. When I reach for it – it slips through my fingers and is gone, slipping away silently as if taunting me with the very concept that I could ever really grasp it. I am left grasping at air still unsatisfied. If not careful, the “why” can become the great white whale of Melville’s classic. A clear obsession that can ultimately drive someone to utter destruction just like Captain Ahab. So, as individuals we must ultimately come to peace with the reality that the “why” may be beyond our grasp. The answer often lies in realms that are far beyond what our feeble humanity can grasp this side of eternity.
I have found the bigger and more important question is exactly what you have offered, “What now”. On this side of eternity, we may never grasp “why” certain tragedy, trials, heartache come about but we can and should always ask. “What now, Oh Lord”. This includes asking,
What can I learn through this?
What do I now understand differently from my experience? How does that change me?
What are you wanting to do with me through this?
What next Lord, how can you use this. Here am I, Lord
Finally, I would offer some thoughts on moving forward.
- Breath and thank God
- Rejoice and be glad in this that every breath, every moment is a gift from God.
- Love intentionally those so very close and reduce the clutter.
- Pursue that which brings meaning and joy to God and you.
- Embrace and marvel in how God can and will use the situation. Bruce Beck
Your post brought back memories of when Chuck was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. We both knew that for this there was no cure. I, of course, was devastated at the prospect of losing my beloved. After hearing the doctor’s words of “6 to 8 months”, we both knew death was looming. What Now? Neither of us ever asked God, “Why us?” We weren’t special. Our bodies don’t last forever; death is inevitable. However, we knew that we had only around 240 days left together on earth. And, oh, how those days flew by! Again, “What now?”
We tried to live each day as normally as possible but with much more appreciation for what we had. Chuck’s focus was on his Savior and his desire to die with grace. I just got through each day writing down my thoughts and conversations with God. (Eventually put in book form and self-published- When Grief is Real and Doubt is Deep)
Like you and Penny, we did have serious discussions (with tears). There were concerns about my life after his homegoing. Losing my soulmate was like a major amputation. I have heard it said that when someone loses a limb there is phantom pain for a long time. This is true regarding death. One may be able to walk again, albeit with a limp.
Time for a new “What Now?” Time for self-reflection and self-assessment. Time for a Why to Live For. There is life after loss. There is no more fear of death. There is a new perspective of and longing for Heaven. Vivian Gross
Again, thank you to all who responded! I am grateful for our Destinyworks Newsletter community! Feel free to share these posts with anyone who you think would benefit from them or send me their name and email and I will add them to my mailing list. And, as always, let us know how our team can serve you as you work to discover your “why”.