Year In Review - Bo Flores

A Year in Review
February 6, 2007
2:00 A.M.

To say that this was “quite a year” would be the understatement of all time. While it is far too painful for me to recall all of the emotions I have felt over the past year, I have felt a strong desire to do my best to remember the journey that I have been taken on over the last 365 days. How the world can change in 365 days. 8,760 hours ago our world changed forever.
It has now been a full year from that fateful afternoon when I received a text while sitting in the library doing homework from my sister simply saying, “Call Dad.” I knew something was up, but would have never in a million years been able to imagine the significance of what I was about to hear. I immediately called my dad. “Bo, we got some tough news today,” he said. I had the feeling that someone had died, but hoped that it would be another call to arms to pray for a cousin struggling to find the Lord again or something of that nature. “We found out today that Grandpa has a form of cancer, and we’re not exactly sure how bad it is.”
The words rang in my ear for an eternity. In the moment before words could come to my mouth, I had twenty different scenarios play before my eyes. “This isn’t that bad and Grandpa will be fine in a couple of weeks.” “This cancer is worse than we thought, but Grandpa is going to find a way to beat it and will forever change how the world battles cancer.” “This cancer is the worst kind ever found, and God heals him miraculously and gets all of the glory” (that one was my favorite). “Grandpa is sicker than it seems and time is running out.” I erased the last one as quickly as it arrived. That was not a possibility. That couldn’t happen to us.
The next few hours were a blur, as I am sure they were for everyone when the first heard the news. I spoke with Grandpa on the phone, and for only the third time I can remember, I heard him cry. Being the man that I was at the age of 21, I decided that I would be strong during the conversation. I lasted 2.5 seconds before breaking down myself. He was scared, like the rest of us. It caught me off guard.
I flew to Dallas the following weekend. I needed to be with the family. We had all been praying in our separate corners of the world, but it was time to come together and take this thing before our Mighty God together. (He is still mighty, by the way.) There was something in the air that night as the family gathered in the living room. With perhaps 30 of us there, we began to call on the Living God. I believe He answered. We worshiped together, praising His holy name. We thanked Him for being a loving, caring God who has always provided. We asked Him to use His unlimited strength to heal our Grandpa. But more than anything, we asked for His perfect and sovereign will to be accomplished in our family. Though we all knew what that could have meant, looking back I think, “If I only knew what I know now, I am not so sure I would still have asked for that.”
One thing I have learned this year is that regardless of what we want of ask for, God still accomplished His perfect will. Sometimes I just fail to see what is so darn perfect about it. Fortunately, He is God and I am not.
The Holy Spirit met us that night, and I believe that from that night of prayer we found strength that would last us the next six months, and beyond. Each of us prayed for Grandpa, we anointed him with oil, we laid hands on him, and we surrendered our Grandpa to God’s will.
The next few months were more of a ride than any rollercoaster any of us had been on. There were ups, moments of good news, proper responses to treatments, and promising outlooks. There downs, bad news from doctors and disappointing responses to treatments. But through the entire process, one thing remained constant. We were on our knees before God the whole time. Moods changed. God did not. Neither did our devotion to seek Him through the entire affair. I recall one night in Dallas when at around 2 A.M. I came downstairs to lay on my face in the living room and cry out to God. My Aunt Cari was already there doing that very thing. I found another place to go.
Through the ups and downs, things were going as closely to plan as we could have hoped for. Grandpa was going to have surgery on August 10th. It was going to be a painful process, but they were going to get the cancer out and he would eventually be all better. We couldn’t wait. Things were already getting back to normal. We knew this because Grandpa was doing what he always did, which was to go to Hawaii. Little did we know that our world was about to come crashing down around us, and our bold praise of a Healing God would soon become whimper for help as we splashed around in life looking for a life-preserver. God would be that for us, too.
There are those who can give much more information on what actually happened at this part of the story (Dr. Cari). I am only trying to recall what it was like from my point of view. Grandpa was having stomach problems and went to the emergency room to have them relieved. That was all it was supposed to be. He was feeling great, was full of energy, was walking his puppy and was back in Texas making his usual trips to Costco. We had all figured out what God was going to do, or so we thought.
I was receiving up to the moment updates on Grandpa’s bowel movements from Dr. Cari and was doing my best not be alarmed by Grandpa’s trip to the hospital. As long as the eagle was still landing, everything was fine (medical terminology for Grandpa's B.M.s provided by Dr. Cari). I was at a movie with another pastor from my church when I received a phone call from my Uncle Tommy asking me if I could make it to Dallas in the next couple of days.
Apparently the eagle wasn’t so much the problem. This was a cancer related issue, and things were becoming more and more unsure. He told me that the family was gathering again and it would be good if I could make it. No matter how busy your life may be, it goes on hold at times like this. I think I was in Dallas two days later. I was not sure what to expect when I arrived, but I never imagined that we were just days out from the end.
The look on my Uncle Tommy’s face while picking my sister and I up at the baggage claim of DFW told me more than any words I had heard in the last few days. This was bad. Very bad. I thought I had prepared myself for the worst. This was worse. Uncle Tommy, Kristin and I went to the hospital the next morning to see Grandpa. Aunt Cari met the three of us in the lobby.
She gave us some details on Grandpa’s condition. I heard no words. My mind was mostly focused on keeping a constant dialog with God, anywhere between “I trust you with my Grandpa” and “You had better not do this to us!” I wonder if God laughs when the little creatures wave their little finger at Him in an attempt to have things their way. I bet I would.
There could be volumes written over the next 10 days. I do not have it in me to go into too great of detail. Each was spent in either the waiting room or the hospital room. Grandpa was tired, and in his very Grandpa-like way felt the need to entertain anyone around him. So we did our best to keep visitors to a minimum. Everyone wanted to see him. I doubt any person in the history of hospitals has felt more loved than my Grandpa must have felt while there.
Nights were my favorite time. I was at the hospital for only two, but I did my best to soak up every moment while in his presence. Night was when you could sit with Grandpa for hours. I did not know that people would sleep during their 2-5 A.M. shifts with Grandpa. I wouldn’t have anyways. I sat awake in his hospital room for hours and hours during the night. I type away on my laptop, saving my thoughts and feelings at the time. There are thoughts of peace and praise, confusion and hurt, and other thoughts that include language that would result in a mouth full of soap from Grandma. I also prayed. I asked God for help in the days to come. More than anything else though, I sat and stared.
I watched him sleep. Listened to his breath. Timed the noise of the pump sucking fluid out of his stomach. Saw him struggle with the various tubes going in and out of his tired body. Listened as he, in a morphine induced state, fired me from U.P.S., but reassured me that my loss wouldn’t be all that great to the company that the company would be just fine. Brown till the end, he was. I even saw him, using the air, write a few very important errands in his pocket secretary. I can still hear the soft background sound of Lorraine and Jubilee Six giving praises to the King.
I woke up on the morning of Saturday, August 19th on the floor of the hospital room surrounded by the cousins. We had had a sleepover with Grandpa one last time. I had to catch a flight back to California to get to school. I was a week behind in the year already. After getting dressed, I slipped into Grandpa’s room for one last precious moment with him. We knew we were getting close now.
What are you supposed to say in that moment? I have no idea. Knowing this would be the last time I would see my Grandpa alive, I knew I needed to say something good, something for him to remember me by. Instead, I just told him that I loved him, and that I would see him soon. I laid my head on his still strong hand and I cried for a moment. Then I gathered myself and walked out. After popping a Zanex, or whatever “helper pill” the family was using at the time, I went to put on my watch. The battery had died in the night. “A little to weird for me to think about right now,” I thought.
I flew back to California and did my best to get settled in. I actually never unpacked my bag. My mom called me around 11 o’clock that night. “It’s over,” she said. The next moment was a rush of so many different emotions that I dare not try to figure out what it was. I was back in Dallas that Tuesday for the funeral and a few days of grieving with the family.
The funeral was a wonderful time of worshiping and remembering, though it was the most painful thing I have ever done. I would say that God met us there, but in reality He didn’t have to meet us anywhere because He never left us. We hugged on each other, cried together, and clung to one another like never before. I think Grandpa’s legacy was visible in the flesh in the Bent Tree sanctuary that afternoon.
I then went back to California, and have been living my life ever since, whatever that means. Some days are good, some days not so good. Every month on the 20th I check off another tally on my mental list of “How many months since we gave Grandpa back to God”. Occasionally I have brief moments of panic where I realize again that Grandpa isn’t coming back, and there is no way on earth I can do this thing called life without him. Then I remember that it was never my Grandpa seeing me through life, but God through my Grandpa. That’s what Grandpa did. He allowed himself to be used by God in whatever way God saw fit. The Holidays were hard, but we all made it through in one piece (some more “sea” sick than others). And here I am, awake at 4:00 A.M., wondering what this next year may hold. What will I write on February 6th, 2008? Let’s just pray it isn’t another one of these.
I suppose after writing all of this, I should end with my giant, life changing revelation that I received through all of this. Try hard as I might, I can only come up with this well known, rarely understood truth: God is God; I am not God. He knows what He is doing, especially when we don’t. He won’t abandon us. He doesn’t leave us to flail around in the ocean of life. He may let us tread water for a bit, but we are never out of His reach.
Our Mighty God saw us through this last year. He will see us through this next year, too. At times the future seems to scary to walk into, but the same God who carried us through the last 365 days will see us through the next 365 days. And in the blink of an eye we will be face to face with our Savior, and over His shoulder, standing among the saints of the ages, will be our Grandpa, waiting to show us the house God had him build for us.