Stop Order Lifted (Guest Post #1- Rob)

Something stressful that was once a regular part of my life was the “Stop Order”. Someone would come rushing into my cubicle at work, and drop a red piece of paper on my desk that said in big letters on one side “Stop Order”. What this meant was that one of my product assembly lines had come to a complete halt because of some crisis and the company was in danger of losing thousands of dollars per minute and missing countless customer schedule delivery dates should the order not be lifted immediately.

What does one do during a stop order? One panicks. It’s a somewhat organized form of panic… it is the nearest I have ever been to an Emergency Room setting, where experts representing each part of the manufacturing process immediately circle in order to understand the problem, attempt to contain it and “get the line back up” as quickly as possible.

Often “lifting” a stop order would involve me going out and actually working the line myself. That usually felt dangerous ~ me being more an intellectual than a hands-on type ~ myself making a mess with the little insignificant-looking assemblies of brass and iron until the problems were solved ~ usually with the line foreman and customer reps hovering over me the entire time.

Anyways, I recently remembered that it was during one of these “stop orders” that we lost Mac. Well, Mac actually died weeks earlier, we would find out at that ultrasound appointment that afternoon. It was a routine appointment for us in every way. Just a regular check at 17 weeks of the baby’s growth. Melanie had gone out of her way to make sure the ultrasound was to be done at a hospital on the far side of town where I worked. So, right in the middle of the Stop Order, I said to everyone, “I really gotta go be with Melanie for this appointment. I’ll be back soon, though.”

I wasn’t back soon. I wouldn’t step back into work for almost ten days. I spent six of those days at Melanie’s side in a hospital as she tried through countless torturous means to deliver a dead baby on a maternity floor full of expectant mothers. That seemingly interminable week ended abruptly with a sterile-field violation that prompted an emergency surgery where Melanie was swept from my presence in a matter of minutes . As Melanie on a gurney and a six-person trauma team disappeared into a full elevator after pushing me out (“No you cannot come. We’ll take care of her.”) I slumped to the floor in exhaustion and tears in the elevator entryway, where Ron, Joyce and Nathan found me moments later. We spent the next ninety minutes in terror-filled tears and prayer while surgeons skillfully utilized ultrasound guidance to extract what remained of our son’s “earthly vessel”; causing additional damage to Melanie’s already badly-traumatized womb.

This was how Melanie and I were called to a life of pastoral ministry. I do not have time now to tell that story… but what I realized today for the first time that it was not long after this time that I developed a problem with high-blood pressure. I’m told it runs in my family, but I find the fact that I developed this problem shortly after Mac’s death interesting. For six years I’ve been slowly stepping up my medications in order to keep myself regulated. A better diet would certainly help; and I am in the “fall down six times, get up seven” stage of becoming a healthier eater.

The reason I have high-blood pressure is because I’m a very driven person. I don’t always show it (though I’m learning to, which I think is a good thing) but so often I overreact to some of life’s less important matters. I’m addicted to responsibility. The more, the better ~ or so I must think at some level. Hence more stress, more comfort-eating, more weight gain, more high-blood pressure, more medication. For years I have regularly felt what I can only describe as a “tightness” within my chest cavity and neck. Actually, I don’t usually “feel” it because I have become accustomed to it. That I suppose, is the point of this long story. Because I had to tell you all of that so I could tell you what I want you to know…

I’m light-headed today.

Let me be less vague. Being around Samuel has somehow (at least this week) lowered my blood pressure to the extent where the medication is unnecessary and what I feel are their regular side-effects. I love it! I have a slight head rush every time I walk around. I feel as light as a feather.

Perhaps some experienced parents are now chuckling to themselves about how much more stress Samuel will one day bring Melanie and me. I can only graciously ask you to let us get there in time. For now, we celebrate the lifting of this seven-year stop order that cost us so much but was worth so much more than the depth of Samuel’s deep brown eyes can ever, ever say.

And I will end by quoting the writer of Hebrews, who’s terse testimony concerning Moses the driven, workaholic, irritable leader of Israel’s exodus as my way of taking this opportunity to thank the Everlasting One for the vision He’s given me of Himself that has brought the sweetest, most redemptive ending of one story, and the hope-filled beginning of yet another…

“He endured because he saw Him who is Invisible.”

All glory and praise to the One I owe everything ~

Melanie,
Hector,
Mac,
Dory,
Seven,
Yana Rose,
Dillon,
a few that are not named here…

and now…
Samuel

to. No ache within me is deeper than the one I have for us to one day behold Your face…

all together, at the end of all things..

Rob