The Tunnel

As Cillian was being rolled back, a sweet friend messaged me and reminded me about the incredible life of Corrie Ten Boom. Her and her family risked their lives hiding Jewish families from the Nazi regime. Eventually caught, she was arrested and sent to a concentration camp.

She recounts her time there in her book, The Hiding Place. And in the midst of the frigid air, with nothing to eat, witnessing her friends and family be tortured and perish, she held church services. In the midst of what could be as close to hell on earth, she whispered praises to her Savior with the little strength she had left.

I remembered her quote as I gave him a kiss and said my goodbyes. “When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit and trust the engineer.”

A week ago when Cillian was readmitted and declining my mom took Sam and I out to dinner for a break. Though I was physically there, I felt like I was staring at life around me through a cage like a bird, desperate to get out. I saw a carefree couple out on a date not burdened with our reality. I saw a young family out to dinner with friends, their arms filled with babies and toddlers.

And I wept. The grief and trauma seem overwhelmingly unfair at times. I speak of faith, but there are times I am angry. I wrestle with God in these moments as would anyone else. But the temper subsides and I always end those moments with a question. “Lord, what are you teaching me right now? Make it clear.” And he never fails to meet that promise.

When we were at the routine follow up appointment, we couldn’t get a good read on his vitals before his echocardiogram. This isn’t uncommon, as the probs are tricky to put on and manage. The assistant said, “no worries, we will just put the O2 sensor on after his echo.” We did the echo and Cillian screamed the whole time- quite a cardiac event for these types of kids. We did what the assistant recommended and put the probe back on afterwards. There he sustained his O2 in the 60s. For reference, normal O2 levels for non cardiac kids should be in the 90’s to 100’s.

Sam and I chalked it up to the echo going poorly, but the nurse insisted we keep it on. After his levels were not recovering the team decided to admit us for monitoring with the full intent we go home the next morning when he recovers. He was able to recover and be off oxygen right up until the moment we were being considered for discharge, then he dropped again. That marked the beginning of our investigation into his plummeting O2 levels.

Fast forward to our pre-procedure consult with the cardiology team they said something that made me feel awestruck of the God I serve. “You know we wouldn’t have caught this problem if the O2 sensor wasn’t on after his echo. Since we caught this super early, we were able to give him the oxygen he needs while the problem of his shunt tightening grew, likely avoiding any long term consequences of not having enough oxygen. Its impeccable timing.” And I smiled. That’s God’s timing.

“Teach me Lord.” And he did. He taught me the same lesson Corrie did all those years ago. Don’t hop off the train when the tunnel gets dark. Trust the engineer.