"I started to die!" - Germán

If you haven't read the previous post, PLEASE do so now, before you read this one. You need to have the background of the events surrounding my husband's hospital stay, and the awesomely incredible way God provided for us during that time.  (Go ahead...I'll wait!)

So what happened? First, here are some excerpts from his diary, to flesh out the story:

"At 2:00 p.m. on Jan.14, I was being hospitalized...fifth floor, room 532; this was my place of meditation for long hours...if it befell me to die, was I prepared to go? Yes...I felt peace; several days before entering the hospital I had cleared up loose ends with my Lord...He was the one who comforted me.  A hospital is a place to meditate on how short life is here on Earth, on the eternity we have yet to know, on the people here...whether they are ready...

"They took me to the OR the next day.  The anesthetist was the only one I knew.  My doctors weren't there!  Then a doctor introduced himself, 'I'm from England. I'm going to do your tracheotomy.'*...what could I say? (Glad to meet you! Go right ahead, but be careful!?) ...put me to sleep for 4 1/2 hours...at noon they woke me up...'Mr. Rhon, how many fingers am I holding up?' 'Two.' ...intensive care unit...try to figure out if any part of me was missing!  I had no voice...but it wasn't the time to tell anyone what had happened. 

"On the 16th...'Mr. Rhon, you're improving quickly.'  I answered, 'I'd improve even more quickly if they'd give me something to EAT!'  I hadn't eaten anything since the 14th...Now I could communicate; they had put a plug in my tracheostomy tube...with it covered, my vocal chords would work...In the ICU children weren't allowed to visit...finally I was back in room 532...how happy my kids were to finally see me, and I them.  Debbie had drawn some lovely pictures for me...I put them on the wall...

"Nine days in the hospital...how wonderful to get HOME and be able to REST!...I had lost 15 pounds. I'm sure I didn't sleep more than a total of 12 hours in those 9 days."

Once he was home, he wrote down his experiences and shared them with me. His most vivid and long-lasting memory is of the moment when he suddenly felt himself leave his body and everything around it and start shooting up toward bright light.  Not "a" bright light (like in the picture), just bright light - all around, it was all light, so intense it filled everything, but didn't hurt his eyes.  It was like he was in an elevator, rushing up into the light.  There was beautiful, sublime music all around, that gave him a profound sense of peace and tranquility.  It was indescribable...precious. He felt such joy, and was praising God with all his being.  He was going up to meet Him!

Then, suddenly, the "elevator" stopped and he was back in his body, waking up on the operating table.  One of the nurses said, "Mr. Rhon, we almost lost you!"  

 (* Fortunately, I had mentioned Germán's apnea to the surgeon, who was SO glad to have that information; he said performing a tracheotomy before the actual surgery would give them a chance if he stopped breathing on the table. Even so, he slipped away from them for a few moments before they could bring him back.)
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Once again, God was so good, not only caring for Germán during a potentially dangerous procedure, but also giving him the overwhelming gift of a foretaste of His heavenly Love and Joy and Peace.  Has anyone reading this ever had a similar experience? I'd be interested to know about it.

God bless you all this week, and fill you with His Peace.

Acro...WHAT? Oh. Never heard of it. But God had...and He was ready!

After the disappointment of realizing that we didn't have a high enough support level to go back to Ecuador, we geared up for another year in Dallas. A couple months later we found out what one of God's reasons was.  Germán had for some years been troubled by something nobody could put a finger on.  His cheeks, tongue, fingers, and other tissues were growing and thickening. (It's hard to describe!)  He already had very thick fingers, and I remember when we bought our wedding rings, he had to have his enlarged; now that ring didn't fit him, and he had it re-enlarged.  His cheeks seemed to have a pleat in them.  And he'd scare me at night with his apnea.

I asked my endocrinologist if he had any idea what kind of a specialist Germán should see, given his condition.  The doctor told me to bring my husband along so he could have a look (no charge).  Almost the moment he saw him, he said, "You have acromegaly." It's caused when the pituitary gland produces too much growth hormone.  (If he'd had it before puberty, he could have become an eight-foot giant!) The underlying reason is usually a tumor on the gland.  So the doctor referred us to a surgeon...and then asked if he could take "before and after" pictures! (It's not a very common condition.)

On the way to the neurosurgeon for the first appointment, in August of 1990, we talked about the best time for the surgery.  Germán would need something like three months off the job to recuperate, and he wouldn't be paid, although since his boss really liked him, he was keeping his job open for him.  We decided the best time would be in January ('91), several months away.  We asked the surgeon if it was alright to wait, and he said it was fine, as the tumor was not fast-growing. We heard later that some of our kith and kin in Ecuador (and who knows where else!) criticized us for waiting so long, as if we were afraid to confront the issue.  (Just get it done with, already!)  But Germán had a logical reason.  He was the foreman of his shift at work, and he knew the production pattern for the year.  He knew that in the winter there was much less demand, and production slowed way down.  That was the best time to be away from the job.

NOW...enter God! (Actually, He'd been there all along, of course, but now we started seeing Him work again through others.)  Around Thanksgiving, when I picked up our kids from school one day, the teachers handed me several bags of groceries- everything needed for a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner. (Debbie had asked for prayer for her dad, but hadn't mentioned that we'd be income-less come January.)  Around Christmas, we got a phone call asking if we were going to be home. They didn't say who was calling.  Then a car drove up and several people started bringing in large boxes, and more boxes...Christmas gifts, foodstuffs, and coupons for perishables, including a turkey.  I had tears in my eyes. Apparently our pastor had asked City Hall to add us to their list of Christmas donations for the needy!   At some time, maybe after the surgery, I was called to the church, given a couple of big boxes and told to fill them from the church's "pantry" of donated foodstuffs.

Next act: my parents wrote about what we were going through in one of their prayer letters, and we knew we had more people praying for us...but not only that.  We started getting checks in the mail!  I can't remember amounts (just that one was a check for $1000!), but the $5 ones were as much appreciated as the $25 or the several-hundred-dollar ones. God had people send us a little more than what Germán would have made from his salary at work for those three months!

Then we had the expenses, not only the surgery, but the specialist appointments, which were way above our affordability! We worked something out with the hospital, and then with the surgeon.  My Dad had flown up to help out (another gift from God), and he asked the doctor if it was OK for us to pay his fee little by little (like $20 a month).   Fine, said the doctor.  Not too long after, we received his bill  - over $3000. (This was 13 years ago. Who knows how much more it would cost now!) But when we looked it over, we saw that the whole thing had been CANCELLED!  We didn't owe him a cent.

 Having this surgery done in Ecuador would have been a lot riskier (possibly more because of the post-operative care than the surgery itself), and we realized what a blessing it turned out to be that we hadn't been able to go home.  In the next post, I'd like to tell you about something that happened to Germán during his surgery.  It's something you read about others going through, but never imagine you will yourself.  Please join me!

(Before I go, remember with me Who paid our enormous Debt, so that we could have spiritual health and eternal well-being!)

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One year turned into three...but I tried a lot of recipes!...like this delicious Fruit Cream

 We stayed at the HCJB compound in Miami for a bit, where someone there offered us a car...for one dollar.  BUT the car wasn't running! However, Germán is, among other things, a trained auto mechanic, so he set to work on the car with borrowed tools, fixed it up, made it work again, and it served us well for the whole time we were in the U.S. trying to raise support.

It usually takes about one year, they told us, but I guess that's for those who have lots of contacts and know lots of people.  Since that wasn't the case with us, our year turned into three. (Besides, with our children in school, we couldn't just pick up anytime we wanted and head for another city for meetings.) They told us to settle in a place where we knew someone, so we went to Dallas, Texas, where my sister and her family lived.  We rented my parents' house (they were still in Ecuador) and enrolled our kids in a Christian school.  (We were reluctant to put them into public schools, as they had both been in the small Christian missionary school in Shell, and the atmosphere would be more what they were used to.)  Germán looked for a job, finding one after several frustrating weeks.  When his potential boss talked to him about his salary and mentioned an amount, Germán told him he really needed more than that...gave him a larger number...and the boss accepted it!  (Thanks, Lord!)
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One of the things I liked about living in the States was that I could expand my cooking experiences! There were many ingredients that were unavailable then in Ecuador, but now I could indulge my avid interest in trying new recipes (and sometimes coming up with my own variations). I enjoy checking out all kinds, including ones from different lands and cultures or time periods (like from ancient history or the Middle Ages). I have had hundreds and hundreds of cook books throughout my 40 years of marriage. (Not all at the same time and in the same place! The most I've had at the same time, in the same place is only about 240.) Of course, although many have been gifts, and a few I've bought,  I certainly couldn't afford to buy hundreds of cook books; however, we lived close to the headquarters for the mission my parents were affiliated with, and on the compound they had a "missionary barrel" that was a little building full of used stuff that had been donated.  We were allowed to "shop" there, too, and I was amazed at how many cook books showed up.  Just about all the categories one could think of!   See, God even supplied tons of free cook books for me! 

Here's the recipe for Fruit Cream a la Rhon.  Try it!  It's easy and really good, a great dessert when you want something light. (Or serve it as an accompaniment to angel food cake.)
       All you need is: 1 cup each - instant vanilla pudding (made according to directions)
                                                  - plain yogurt
                                                  - Cool Whip or sweetened whipped cream
       Mix them very gently together, add 1 - 1 1/2 t. vanilla and about 4 T. sugar (or its equivalent) or to taste.
       Now fold in 1 or 2 cups of fruit - or as much as you like!.  My favorite is crushed pineapple (drained).
       Keep refrigerated. (I like the fact that this is easy to make sugar-free.)
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When we had been in Dallas a year, our support level was still so low that we knew we couldn't return to Ecuador yet. It was discouraging, but then we discovered one of the reasons why God kept us in Dallas for longer than we wanted.  Germán was diagnosed with something fairly serious. I'll tell you about our next "adventure" (or "ordeal"!)  in the next post!

"Why aren't your children American citizens?" ... and... "One-Man Band", a poem

The whole idea of pulling up 8-year-long roots in Shell and going to a country where we hardly knew anybody, with two children in school, was still difficult to process. There were so many things to do, so many details, even those little things that keep popping up when one least expects (or wants!) them.  We had to weigh priorities and wring our brains out to coordinate everything...sort of like when you're trying a new 32-step gourmet recipe...or planning a holiday dinner for 63 people...or sorting through 27 years of loose photographs...or whatever...(not that I've ever done those things!).

One major project was filming a video for our deputation (which is what it's called when you go around speaking in churches or at homes or with friends, etc., about your ministry plans, with the purpose of allowing them the chance to commit to praying for you and/or supporting you financially).  The  friend that produced my music album once more came to our aid.  I wrote the script, all four of us took part in the video, and our friend filmed and produced it. On it we talked of the various ministries we'd had in Shell, and the desire we now had to become career missionaries. I also sang one of my original songs.

Paperwork for getting Germán, Dan and Debbie their "green cards", to live legally in the U.S., had its rather interesting moments, like when someone interviewing us at the embassy demanded crossly, "You're an American citizen. Why aren't your children American citizens?"  It seemed to her a case of gross neglect on my part! But American law wouldn't let me - it wasn't my fault!  Dan was born in Australia and Debbie in Ecuador. I could only pass on my citizenship if I had been born in the U.S... which I hadn't  (I was born in Mexico)  OR lived a minimum of ten years in the U.S... which I hadn't -  mostly I'd lived in Ecuador, with five years in Australia.  By 1989, in my 35 years, I had only lived a total of around five or six years in the States, I think.

Sometimes our souls and spirits seem to be in the same kind of whirlwind activity, don't they? So much to do, think about, decide, meditate on...while trying to keep our focus on our Leader's baton.

                                              One-Man Band

                              Lord, help me to coordinate
                              these parts of me that need to raise
                              great efforts to consolidate,
                              and so produce a pleasing praise.
                                              When one part's independent shoot          
                                               takes itself off to sing alone,
                                               the others promptly follow suit
                                               and wander loudly on their own!
                              It must be hard upon Your ear
                              at times (and maybe on Your eyes!).
                              Sure, all the elements are here...
                              they just don't always harmonize!

                                               The drumbeat of my heart should strive
                                                to fit the tune that floods my mind,
                                                as thoughts and words leap into life
                                                and march to find their place in line.
                              My hands should add a counterpoint,
                               like tingling tears of tambourines.
                               My feet should listen close, to dance
                               the beat our music really means.
                                                The same direction all my dreams
                                                 should follow -freely, not by rote -
                                                 to join each other in the streams
                                                 that flow together toward each note.

                               Then to my voice I'd give full rein
                                to weave Your music true and deep,
                                a music played with all I am,
                                that makes us laugh, that makes us weep.
                                                 Oh, to what heights this would conduce,
                                                  if all of me would understand!
                                                 What priceless songs we could produce
                                                  upon this stage within Your hand!
                                                                                                   --Becky Rhon 
 
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Last week I shared some stories of how God provided financially for us...and He continued even as we started out in a "foreign land"...by providing us with a car for $1. It wasn't running, but it served us well for three years!  I'll tell you about it when you join me next time as we go "overseas" (to the U.S.) and begin our odyssey in a not-very-well-known-to-us land. God bless you all.





                                                  

HE did it again!!

...and not for the first or last time. We had been accepted as candidates with HCJB, but couldn't afford the air fare up to Florida for the Orientation.  The missionary community, our friends and co-workers, all chipped in and paid our way.  So at the beginning of our eighth year in Shell, Germán and I left our kids with friends and flew north.  The Orientation was interesting, we learned a lot, and met new people who were also seeking to be members of the mission.  At the end of the two weeks, we were told that we had been accepted unanimously by the committee. SO...we'd arrived!  Well...not quite.  In fact, not by a long shot!

Now we had to plan the hardest part: raising missionary support.  As I've mentioned before, it was a daunting task. However, first we had to untangle our roots in Shell.  The children had already started the school year, so we decided we wouldn't leave for the States until the next May.  (By then we would have been in Shell eight full years.)  Until then, we could work on preparing deputation material, selling whatever needed to be sold, and packing away in barrels that which we would want to have in Quito, where we would be stationed when we returned.
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I want to pause for a moment and share with you some other occasions in which God has "done it again" for us, financially. These all happened at various times while we were in Shell.  (He has done it again and again since then, but we'll wait until our story catches up to tell you about them!)

1.) The first year in Shell, when it had been decided that Dan would be accepted into the little missionary school for first grade, Germán went to pay the first semester's tuition and was told, "Someone already paid it for you."

2.)  I was needing a few items of clothing, and had saved up money from giving Spanish and piano lessons. (*)  Around this time, (this was before my collapse), I was asked to be a speaker at a national women's convention/retreat out in the jungle.  Debbie was 17 months old, so I had to take her with me. I calculated that with what I had saved, I would be able to pay the air fare on MAF's airplane and still buy at least the more important items of clothing. A close Ecuadorian friend of mine wanted to go, but I knew she wouldn't be able to afford the air fare.  So I offered to "help" her, figuring I could afford to pay a part of her ticket.  My friend misunderstood, and it became obvious that she thought I was offering to pay the whole thing!  Well, that would have left me without enough money for the clothes; but I didn't want to disappoint her, so I let her think it was what I had meant all along!  Somehow it seemed more important than the clothes.

We returned from a lovely time at the retreat; not much later, at the end of a ladies' Bible study, the hostess asked me to stay behind. Then she took me to an unoccupied bedroom, handed me a HUGE bag of clothes and told me to try them on!  They were in great shape, but she couldn't use them anymore.  So I went to work. Most of the things fit me fine.. Pretty much all the different things I had meant to buy were represented there, plus a whole lot more! I walked home in a daze, carrying this enormous bag of clothes (I had to hold it with both arms, it was that big), so much more than I had planned to buy.

3.) Do you remember the missionary convention I talked about a while ago?  (The one that held the contest for a theme song, which I won.)  Well, one had to pay to go to it, and the church in Shell was going to pay for all the deacons to go.  They couldn't afford to include the wives.  I thought that was a shame!  A good friend of mine, whose husband was a deacon, couldn't afford to go, so I told her I'd pay her way. She was thrilled.  Once we got to the Christian camp, it was determined that, since I had won the theme song contest, I shouldn't have to pay.  Great!  So paying for my friend turned out not to be any more than we would have paid anyway.  That was a help...but it didn't end there.

After we returned to Shell, when I checked our mailbox one day, I found an envelope of money - no name to tell us who it was from, or writing of any kind.  Maybe you can guess how much was in it?  Yes, the same amount we had payed for Germán and my friend...plus a little extra.

4.)  Both of our children had to have their tonsils and adenoids out while fairly young.  I can't remember with which one this next happened...I think it was Debbie.  She had her surgery, in which all went well.  Soon after, a friend stopped by to see me and handed me an envelope with enough money to more than cover the cost of the operation!

So you see...when omnipotent God supplied the means for us to go to Miami for Orientation, He was just doing what He does!  (Why do we worry about things?  Probably because we're finite humans, and that's what we do! We don't always make much sense, do we?!!)

God bless you till next time.
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 *For those who don't know me: I speak Spanish fluently (and not because I'm married to an Ecuadorian! I spoke it well when I met him.) and had eight years of piano lessons as a young girl. (Now I mostly play by ear for enjoyment or accompaniment, and for composing now and then.)

Help me out here, Lord!

Application forms can be daunting.  Filling them out is something I cordially dislike.  (Well, maybe not so "cordially"!) But it had to be done if we were to be considered for membership in HCJB World Radio (as it was called then).  It went well until we came to one pertinent question: do you feel God's call to be a missionary?

Well...Germán was fine answering that, but what was I going to say?  I couldn't say "yes", but I began wishing I had heard from God about the matter in some way! (Something really cool and exciting, if possible!) Truly, if I had received a very obvious unequivocal call from God to go to the North Pole, I'd have started packing!  In all this, though, God never sent me a specific "moment of confirmation".  And it was something I couldn't MAKE happen.  I would have been so glad to receive a "call", to be able to continue with our plans, confidence firmly in hand.

Again, Germán (and the mission) were patient.  I prayed like you can't imagine!  Please, Lord, let me know You want me to be a missionary; give me something that assures me that it's what You have in mind. I really wanted to be able to point to a specific time and experience and say, "I received a call from God..."  But only HE could make it happen.  One can't just fabricate a thing like that.

As you see, it wasn't a lack of willingness. I'd gotten to the point where I was ready to go along with Germán's vision for our future.  But how would I fill in that crucial blank on the questionnaire?

Finally, I did what I had done before when I needed guidance desperately and couldn't seem to find an answer.  I stayed home from church one Sunday morning for the express purpose of putting this "problem" up for consideration before my God. He didn't give me a "missionary call", BUT...He DID answer me!  He made me realize that as far as He was concerned, my position should be that of following my husband wherever He led him...and then trusting Him to lead my husband. That was enough.

Germán was relieved when I told him. I talked to one of the missionaries on the committee and said, "I haven't received a specific call, but I believe in following my husband and I am willing to do that.  Is that alright?"  He answered, "That's fine!"  I wonder sometimes if God did it that way so that I would remember that, although I would have ministries myself, and Germán would encourage me to do so, my principle job would be to support my husband, stand by him and be a team-mate.   (In fact, a while later, when my health prevented me from doing much outside the home, when speaking of ministries, if anyone would ask, "And what does your wife do?", Germán would say, "She takes care of me.")

Once we had been accepted by HCJB, we still had a long road ahead of us.  First of all, we had to travel to the U.S. for a Candidate Orientation. We couldn't even begin to afford it!  But God had that all worked out, and I'll tell you about it in the next post.
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When I wrote about my collapse in Shell, I think I told about the verse that God gave me as a special anchor for my soul.  It was  the one I put at the top of this post, Revelation 3:8, "I know your deeds. See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut.  I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name."  Although, being a human being, I have not always done this, He has graciously shown me that when HE opens a door, no matter how weak we are, or how strong any opposition seems to be, NO ONE can shut it!  (WE can't shut the doors He opens, either; we can refuse to walk through them...but we'll miss out on all He has for us.)

See you next time!                        

Two Pictures; a Poem for the New Year; and a continuing story...

      

Sitting on Abuelito's lap is Miriam (almost 4), and between us is her older sister Liliana (5). To my left is Noe Rhon (8), on Abuelita's lap is her brother Eli (3) and on the floor her brother Micah (6).

Like I promised, here are pictures of our family. We started out with just the two of us, and now we're 11.  The young adults and children in the pictures are all an integral part of our Journey.  Each one has impacted our lives and added depth and wonder to our souls.

I think you can recognize the grandkids from the first picture. Behind Germán are our daughter Debbie and her husband Steve.  Behind me are our son Dan and his wife KC.  (Dan is actually as tall as Steve, but he's hunched over a bit, leaning on the couch, because he had surgery on his foot and can't rest all his weight on it.)

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Continuing our tale...I think Nov. 20 was the last post before I shared Christmas poetry and reflections with you, so you might want to go back to it and re-read it. In a nutshell: Germán wanted us to join HCJB as career missionaries (he was only an employee at the time), and I had a hard time with that idea. The idea in itself was fine (I'm a missionary kid myself), but I couldn't see how in the world we were going to manage raising financial support when we didn't have hardly any contacts in the States, no churches to approach, and all the preparation of presentations would fall on me, as Germán's English wasn't up to it. He could team with me in the actual events, but I'd have to do most of the groundwork, and this was post-collapse...so my health wasn't all that reliable!

Germán very patiently waited, didn't insist or push me, which I appreciated very much.  Eventually I could handle the idea more serenely.  This poem (though written a few days ago) seems to fit right into how I should have and finally was able to look at things.  (If you want, you can think of it as "New Year Prayer".)

                                                New Day Prayer

                               Each morning You leave a new dawn at my door,
                               the gift of a day never walked through before.

                               Each one is a stepping-stone placed on the Way,
                               and the choices I make will affect how it's played.

                               I can choose to let Son-light illumine each day,
                               to see all of your goodness and hear what You say.

                              There's no guarantee it will be stumble-free,
                               but if You're at my side, as You promised to be,

                              then even when threats to my peace have been made,
                              as You hand me your gift You'll say, "Don't be afraid.

                              "Just stick to the stepping-stones; don't leave the Way
                               or allow circumstances to lead you astray."

                               My sure-footed Shepherd!  My kind-hearted King!
                               Your wisom's deep well calls to each day You bring.

                               Lord, help me to trust You, help me to decide
                               as each stepping-stone beckons, that You'll be my Guide.                                                                                                                                                             -Becky Rhon
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Finally the day came when we could approach the mission about applying to join the organization.  Once in conversation with them, and looking at the forms to fill out, there came another hitch....not as intense as the last one. The problem was the answer to one specific question on the application forms. But one that had to do with our future plans and the way I looked at things, and took some time to work out.  I'll tell you about it in the next post.

Until then, God bless you. I pray that you will have begun the new year joyfully, following His stepping-stones towards Eternity.                           
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