Our Rock

I call him the Rock in our family.  Through the many tumultuous years of foster parenting, through the endless challenges of raising children with complicated needs, through deep heartache and pain and loss, and most recently through my vicious battle with Stage 4 cancer . . . through it all he is the one who has remained strong and courageous.  Resolute and steadfast.  Endlessly optimistic and confident.  The one who has never stopped believing in the goodness of God.

I call him our Rock, because every day he carries our family.  He works diligently at his job so that we can have an income, and so that we are provided with much-needed medical insurance.  Every day he faces a stressful job where many people depend on him for direction and decisions.  Decisions worth billions of dollars for his organization.  

After a long and stress-filled day, he comes home to a wife who may or may not be feeling well, who may or may not be crying, who may or may not have enough faith to make it through one more day.  After helping the kids through dinner and their bedtime routine, washing all the dishes, folding the pile of laundry left on the couch, and opening the mail (tasks I struggle to do because of painful and debilitating nerve damage that the cancer has caused in my arm and hand), he then has video-conference meetings with his colleagues who work in different time zones on the other side of the world.  He is the last one to go to bed at night, long after everyone else is asleep.

I call him our Rock because each one of us depends on him and his solid, unwavering strength.  There is our adult son who struggles in so many ways, still living at home, facing the consequences of poor choices, fighting mental illness, who may never be able to live on his own.  There are our adult daughters who, in their quest for independence, have distanced themselves from us, which is especially heart-breaking during this season when their love and support would have been such an encouragement to me as I fight for my health.  

There is our young son with complex medical needs and serious cognitive delays, the one who requires specialty medications that need to be refilled and dispensed on time, medical specialists who don’t always agree on best treatment options, and tutors and IEP’s and school meetings and mountains of documentation to keep track of.  

And there is our youngest daughter, the one with self-regulation and sensory issues.  The one who, because mommy doesn’t feel well enough to engage and train and redirect and nurture properly, is becoming wilder by the day.  Child-rearing used to be a significant part of my role in the family, but now, at least during my season of extreme weakness, our Rock has taken over the majority of those responsibilities, tasks, and burdens.  He is carrying the weight of our family.

And our Rock is carrying the weight of our family almost entirely alone.  While I have been inundated with help and support, friends bringing us meals, cleaning our house, driving me to my appointments, watching our kids, coming to visit and talk and pray with me . . . he is, for the most part, alone.  Who else can take over his responsibilities at work?  Who else can pay our bills or repair the car or take our son to his numerous medical appointments or tend to the yard that is becoming overgrown with weeds?  Who else can comfort our little girl at 2:00 in the morning when she is crying and can’t sleep because her whole world has been shaken, or pray with me every morning, having sufficient faith for both of us when I doubt that I have enough physical or emotional strength to face another day?  Everyone he knows is asking him, How is your wife doing?  But who does he know who is asking him, Hey, Buddy, how are you doing?

A Rock can only stay strong for so long.  Relentless storms eventually cause cracks.  Steady winds and crashing waves eventually cause erosion.  Torrential rains, the downpours, the kind that cause fierce, rushing floods, eventually cause the strongest rock, the most unmovable rock, to move.  To slip.  To shift from its foundation.

Being a Rock is nothing new, of course.  I think of Moses, a great man of faith, who was a Rock, not just for a family, but for an entire nation.  All of Israel depended on him to remain strong and courageous.  Resolute and steadfast.  Endlessly optimistic and confident.  To be the one who never stopped believing in the goodness of God.

When Israel went into battle against their enemy Amalek, an enemy that was way too powerful for Israel to defeat, they depended on Moses, their Rock, and his solid, unwavering strength.  He went to the top of the hill with the staff of God in his hands, and whenever he held up his hands, Israel prevailed!  Miraculously, his courage and faith helped them to overcome impossible circumstances.  But as the battle raged on, Moses’ hands understandably grew weary.  A Rock can only stay strong for so long.

Fortunately, however, Moses did not have to carry the weight of his nation’s victory alone.  There were Aaron and Hur, co-laborers in the battle, right there beside him to reinforce him.  To bolster his strength.  When Moses’ hands grew weary, when it all became too much for him to bear, they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it, while Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on each side.  With their encouragement and support, Moses’ hands were steady.  With their presence and demonstration of solidarity, He was able to persevere, to press on.  Eventually the long battle ended, and Israel, against impossible odds, defeated that powerful enemy!  (Exodus 17)

Likewise, the Rock in our family is a great man of faith.  But as the battle rages on – the battle for our children’s hearts, my battle with the powerful enemy of cancer - his proverbial hands are understandably growing weary.  He simply cannot carry the weight of our family’s victory alone.  He needs co-laborers in the battle, men who are willing to stand beside him, to reinforce him, to bolster his strength.  Men whose encouragement and support, whose presence and demonstration of solidarity can enable him to persevere.  To press on.

Eventually this long battle will end, and we will, against impossible odds, defeat these powerful enemies.  Some day we will stand on the other side, victorious!

Meanwhile, as the battle rages on, long and fierce and relentless, we need our Rock.  I call him the Rock because every day he carries our family.  Because each one of us depends on him and his solid, unwavering strength.  

But our Rock simply cannot carry the weight alone.  He needs the support of his co-laborers so that he can remain strong and courageous.  He needs encouragement if he hopes to stay resolute and steadfast, optimistic and confident. He needs men who will stand beside him, reminding him of the goodness of God.  Men who will hold up his hands, one on each side, and enable him to continue, for one more day, to be our Rock.

Note:  Here are some ideas for Supporting our Rock.