Just recently a young man was undergoing a heart valve replacement operation when his aorta ruptured. Unfortunately this critical heart vessel was terribly deteriorated making an immediate repair impossible. Almost ten minutes passed before a renowned heart surgeon with more than 15000 similar surgeries to his credit could get blood pumping to John Holzbach’s brain. Two days ago, John’s dad, Bob, met with the medical team to review John’s status. Bob was told the prognosis: at only 38 years old, John is most likely in a permanent vegetative state.
Aware that his only son would never be the John he had raised as an only son. This was added to Bob’s painful year. Only six months ago Bob and the healthy John and his sister buried his wife and their mother. How could this new widower now face what would be like an seeming eternity of waiting ... waiting, waiting ... waiting for his offspring either to experience a miracle or to follow his mother in death. Bob is now faced with living in a seeming forever Advent. Bob now lives with an awareness of what could have been if cancer had not taken his wife and the tragic aorta problem had not made John’s brain inoperative.
We live our Advent of waiting with a sure knowledge that the Son of God is reborn in our lives every day. We know that December 25th will be our recelebration of the birth of Jesus. Yesterday I continued my vigil with Bob who realizes he must wait with genuine hope that something will happen to restore John’s brain.
“How can you believe there is a God? First, your dear wife and now your only son.” A question from a friend put before Bob. His answer: “I know that our son and daughter are creations that were given to me and my wife. No human could have created the truly incredible creation we call a human being. Even though I now have a most unusual son, I believe that only a loving God could have given me and my wife the joy of a wonderful son for 38 years. Strange isn’t it: My son is no longer the man he was a few days ago. Yet, honestly, my waiting for the first sign that a cure might be happening has strengthened my belief that there is a God with me today. Please pray for John. That’s all I need is the I know you are praying for him ... and me and his sister.
This is a most unusual reflection. However, this event in a brother Christian's life offers all of us much to think about and pray for. So today I ask you who read this reflection to add young John to your list of intentions as well as his Dad and sister. We could never begin to understand the pain they now know will be a daily dose of waiting, waiting and waiting. As we await the recelebration of Jesus birth, let us ask for a faith that could be as strong as Bob’s.
