NOT MY OWN

Eulogy for Brent, by Bob VerBurg, January 23, 2021

In December of 2019, I came down with a cold that took a couple of weeks to recover from.  It appeared Kim had dodged this bug until January 8, 2020, when she began to feel ill.  Then the evening of Friday, January 10, as I was getting ready to leave for work, Kim suddenly spiked a fever and her lips began to turn blue.  So, I immediately took her to the emergency room.

After a quick x-ray of her lungs, the emergency physician told us Kim appeared to have a mass in her right lung that was probably pneumonia and she had to be admitted immediately. 

When we arrived at Kim’s room, two nurses and a physician were already waiting for us and immediately started tending to Kim.  As I gave Kim’s medical history to the doctor by way of answering a series of questions, I was asked a question that I’ve never been asked before: “In case your wife requires extraordinary measures, how much intervention do you and Kim want?”

Kim and I had recently completed our will and advance directive, and I was Kim’s advocate, and neither of us ever want to be kept alive by way of extraordinary care, so I told the doctor I would make the call if it ever came to that.

But he persisted, “That’s for the long term, right?  What about the short term; like what if something happens right now?”

I had to give that some thought; in other words, consider short term versus long term.  Kim’s advance directive didn’t reference short-term and long-term intervention and our attorney had not brought that up either.  But before I could answer, an alarm sounded on the monitor.  As one nurse reached to silence the alarm, the second nurse picked up a syringe as the doctor called out a medication and dose followed by the words, “IV push.” 

“Done.”, she replied.

Without taking his eyes off the monitor, the doctor told the second nurse to code.  Then I heard a public announcement, “Code Blue, room 327.”

To this point, I still hadn’t grasped the seriousness of what was happening, although I do remember wondering why a hospital like St Mary’s would have two rooms 327.

A resuscitation team ran into our room.  A nurse answered her phone with, “Ok, we’re on the way.” ; then she stated matter-of-factly, “Critical care is ready.”  And with that, Kim and everyone else was on their way down the hall to an already opened elevator car.  So, I followed.

There was room for everyone in the elevator except me, so a nurse pushed the close button as she stepped out and said, “Go – we’ll take the next one.”

As she and I took the next elevator up, I asked, “What’s happening?  Where are we going?”

She explained Kim’s blood pressure had just failed from toxic shock and the toxic shock was from the infection in her lung.  And when one life system goes down, they worry about the kidneys because that’s the most vulnerable life system.  And once the kidneys go down, then other systems begin to cascade down so we’re taking your wife to the ICU where a team of critical care experts can take over.

As the elevator door opened to the ICU, she told me it was a good thing we were already in the hospital when Kim went into shock, else she wouldn’t have made it.  That last statement stunned me.

As a Christian, you often call to mind a verse or passage from the Bible to bring comfort and reassurance – for some reason, nothing came to mind. 

“I DON’T WANT TO OFFER ANY FALSE HOPE.”

This was pre-COVID-19 so I was allowed to stay in Kim’s room with her.  Then on Tuesday, January 14, 2020, at 3:00 in the morning, I was awakened by the sound of muted, urgent activity outside our room.

I opened the door, and across the hall, a resuscitation team was rushing into the room of a young boy.  One person was standing on the bottom rail of this boy’s bed counting off chest compressions, a second person was bagging this boy’s respiration, a third person was tending to medications and a fourth person was standing in the background with a charged defibrillator waiting for any kind of cardiac rhythm.   

This boy’s parents were standing in the hall crying and praying and negotiating with God, “Please God, not this, not now, anything but this!”

The doctor approached them and told them they would keep working on their son as long as they wanted, “But” the doctor added, “I don’t want to offer any false hope.”

This boy’s adult sister arrived and as all three of them embraced and cried, the dad said, “We have to let him go now, we have to say good-bye.”

The lack of sleep from the last four days had taken its emotional toll on me.  It was evident that Kim was going to be discharged in the next 24 hours, but the emotional and physical fatigue of the last four days caused me to internalize this family’s grief without me even knowing it was happening.  I had to leave the building.

I stood on the top floor of the parking garage and faced a bitter north winter wind that cut to my bones.  The helplessness and hopelessness of this boy’s death overwhelmed me.  I couldn’t help but internalize the parents’ overwhelming grief and loss; life seemed so unfair and unjust.  And those words, “I don’t want to offer you any false hope.”

If an expert medical team in an ICU can’t offer any hope, then what hope is there?  A comforting verse from the Bible still eluded me, but what did suddenly come to mind was the first question and answer in the Heidelberg Catechism.  “What is my only comfort (hope) in life and death?”

The only part of the answer I could remember was, “That I am not my own, but belong body and soul to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.”  I returned to Kim’s room and found the Catechism online and read the whole answer from a very different perspective than I’ve ever read it before.  Every sentence took on a deeper meaning than ever before. 

NOT A SHOCK OR SURPRISE

Because I belong to Jesus Christ, nothing happens to me that God doesn’t already know.  I realized I would never hear God say, “That’s a surprise”; or, “I didn’t know that would happen”; or, “I never saw that coming.”

The news on Saturday, August 4, 2018, came as a shock to Brent and Sherry.  And then to their kids, then our extended family, and then to friends.  But not to God.  God knew this would happen even before Brent was born.  And God knew Brent and Sherry had and would continue to develop a faith that would allow them to take on this challenge and in doing so, bring honor to God.

None of us could have predicted Tuesday, January 12, 2021.  In fact, we all prayed it would work out differently.  But we know God’s plans are different than ours because He knew He could use Brent in a way that brings new Christian growth to everyone who knows Brent.  January 12 was, in a way, a shock to us but not to God.  Before the beginning of time, God saw Brent and our family standing in that room.  And because of that, God sent Daniel and many other blessings to us to minister to our needs.  

As to the question of why…  we may never know that either.  Job asked God that exact same question.  And God’s reply was just as unsatisfying to Job as it is to us.  So we may not know why, but if we look, we can see the honor and beauty of God’s plan.

Our pain and loss are real and God knows that we are human.  But God will also provide new blessings every day to those who wait patiently for God.

Yesterday, January 22, I was amazed at all the people who showed up at church to pay their respects to Sherry and our family.  Except for about a dozen people I know from church, I didn’t know Brent and Sherry knew so many people.   Kim and I were blessed by simply watching the crowd, listening in on stories, and hearing the laughter.

Those who know Brent know he loved to have fun in a crowd of his friends.  I texted a friend that we only see this many people at weddings and funerals and on this occasion, the stories and laughter would have brought as much joy to Brent as a gathering for a wedding.

“FOR WHICH GOD HAS CALLED ME HEAVENWARD”

As we getting ready for Brent’s funeral in a couple of hours, Paul’s letter to the Philippians comes to mind.  Like Paul, Brent dedicated his life to pressing on toward the goal to win the prize for which God called him heavenward.

Brent leaves a rich and enriching legacy for his kids.  To them:  always realize a parent’s voice will never leave your mind so use your dad’s voice to press toward the goal God has for your life.  As you go through life, ask yourself, what advice would my dad give me.

The last 30 months have brought honor to God by giving family and friends the opportunity to do what Christians are supposed to do: encourage and serve.

Brent brought honor to God by taking on the trial of cancer without letting it become an excuse to give in to the temptation of bitterness or anger toward God.  Brent met and embraced this trial with perseverance which deepened his faith even more.  No doubt Brent prayed this cup would pass, but even more, he was willing to allow God to work His will in Brent’s life.  The topic of trial and temptation is discussed extensively in the Book of James, one of Brent’s favorites.

James tells us to count it all joy when we face a trial because that develops our (and other’s) faith more deeply.  The trial God chooses to send to us comes back to the question of why.  We may never know, but God wants us to trust that He has our best interest at all times.  And God will never test us beyond our spiritual ability

Cancer won a battle and that brings loss and grief.  But cancer’s win is ultimately meaningless and hollow as the war was already won long ago when Jesus Christ claimed that victory for us.  And because that victory now belongs to us, each of us belongs to Christ and that assures us of eternal life.  With that assurance, we can wholeheartedly live for God and know that someday, we will claim our prize from God for which He is calling us heavenward.

In the meantime, Brent leaves a wonderful legacy to help us in our journey in the Christian faith.