Chapter 26

Cassie

I spent several days in the hospital before things became clear to me. Between the exhaustion of my labor, and the weakness of my blood loss and the stroke, and the drugs they gave me for one reason and another, I spent a while in a fog. Somehow I remember Yirmeyah's first visit clearly, but after that I wasn't sure whether I was dreaming that I saw him or Mama or Daddy, or the doctors or nurses either. But eventually I came out of it, and had to deal with the reality that had enclosed me.

Uppermost was my sons. Yirmeyah and I had carried on a long discussion over what to name our children, with him holding out for Biblical names and me insisting that we name them after my grandfathers. Finally we'd compromised, naming one David – which was both Biblical, and my mother's father's name – and one Stephen, which was a Biblical name but existed in my family only with a distant cousin. We were both happy with the compromise, which is the best kind of compromise to reach, and knowing that David and Stephen were fine went a long way toward consoling me as I came out of my haze and realized that my life was going to be very different than it had been.

For one thing, I had no idea how we were going to pay all the medical bills. It's one thing to look at the birth of twins, and another thing altogether to look at having to deal with emergency procedures and recovery from a stroke, which is not something that's quick. My parents had money but not that much money, and between my insurance at work and Yirmeyah's insurance through the church we didn't have enough. And I probably would have to quit my job, because getting back on my feet was going to be a long process and Philane's couldn't keep me on leave of absence forever. I was on maternity leave at the time, but that would run out.

That financial burden was one thing I could set aside, since it was so large I had trouble grasping it anyway, just as I have trouble getting my mind around the distances between galaxies. But the immediate problems of how I was going to care for my sons and my husband were things I couldn't brush aside. I remembered that I'd been confident that first time that Yirmeyah had come to see me, and it hadn't been bravado. I really had believed that God would carry us through, and I never lost that. It was a constant thrill to me to look within and realize that however new I might be to the faith God had given me grace to deal with what He'd put me in. Yet there were times, as I suppose there are for all Christians, when I'd get sight of what I faced and I'd break down and cry with the difficulty of it.

My left hand remained in a claw. I couldn't move the fingers more than a twitch. My face was weak on the left side, and I could hear and feel the difference when I spoke, though no one seemed to have trouble understanding me. What was bad was my legs. My left leg was almost immobile, and I could hardly feel a thing with it. I watched doctors jab it with sharp instruments and it was as though someone were faintly brushing me with a thread, the sensation was so faint and distant. My right leg was better, but it had lost a little function too, and I knew that as things were I could not walk, not even with a walker. The prospect of therapy was depressing, for I knew that it might take years and never restore me to my former blithe mobility.

Daddy and Mama were devastated. I could tell each time they came to see me, after the fog lifted, that any cheer they brought was something they'd drummed up so as not to get me down. I loved them more than ever for their concern for me, but seeing how forced they were got me down as much, I sometimes thought, as long faces would have. I never told them so, though, because I knew they were thinking of me and I didn't want to hurt them any more than they were already hurt.

Yirmeyah's visits were the bright spots in my life. He came by every day – he told me he'd been doing so since the first day, even though I couldn't remember clearly – and he seemed to draw strength from me. It was as though God were using me to support my husband, when I would have thought I'd need him to hold me together. It was as though I'd turned into a tower of strength by falling flat on my back, and I couldn't understand it at all.

One day I asked Yirmeyah about it. He smiled – a genuine smile of delight that warmed my heart – and said, "It's just the Bible, Cass. 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.' God has brought you low in one way, and built you up in another. You remember how sure you were that first day? Well, God has taken that faith and turned you into my support."

I reached for him with my right hand, but he reached under the sheet and pulled out my left hand and held it to his cheek. I kept hiding that crippled hand, and he kept finding it and treating it with adoration. I let him do it – my left arm, though not as crippled as the hand, was too weak to fight him anyway – and said, "I'm glad you have a support, adown. You're my husband and my pastor and you led me to the Lord and have taught me His ways, but you're young and I tremble to think what you're going through these days."

"I am young, Cassie. I feel it now more than I ever did. I'm going through something that men twice my age might faint to think on. I'm glad you can support me. I just wish neither of us had to go through this."

"I wish it too, Yirmeyah. There are times when I'd be willing to give up, oh, I don't know what, in order to have my body back. I know I'd be willing to give up my life in order to free you from this, though of course that would put you through another kind of torment. It hurts me more to see you hurting than it does to consider my own disability."

I did the best I could to brush my fingers against his cheek, where he still held my hand. "But God has put us here and we've got to wait for His will. I pray for healing every day, Yirmeyah, but more than that, I pray that God will give us grace to learn from Him in these things. He has tested us far less than He tested Job, and Job learned from his experiences. I want to learn from ours."

Now my husband was weeping. He took my hand, and kissed it – first where they'd put my rings back on my finger, now that I was out of ICU, and then he kissed each finger, his tears falling down and warming my skin. "Cassie," he said, "my darling Cassandra, you are indeed my strength in this. God called me to preach, and gave me such wisdom and knowledge as I need for that. But for this trial, He's made you my wisdom and knowledge. I don't have within me what it takes for this. He's put it within you, and I am so glad that you've grown enough to be His revelation to me."

This time I made no effort to hide my withered hand, but rather tugged until he released it, and then touched my crippled fingers to his lips, and then brushed away his tears as best as I could. I knew there were tears in my own eyes, but my smile was perfectly genuine. "Yirmeyah, I could never have been this strong if God hadn't wrought it within me, and I still find myself weak at times, and even when I'm strong the weakness is just a breath away. But since God has chosen to do things this way, I'm glad He's let me hold you up, for I can think of nothing more honorable than to be my husband's support in time of need."

Yirmeyah

Cassie came home after a month in the hospital. Jason and Katherine had taken David and Stephen home as soon as the hospital would release them, and they'd been caring for the twins while I spent most of my time at the hospital. I took them to see her as much as the hospital would let me. She breast fed them every chance she got, and with the breast pump we made sure they had Cassie's milk at other times. But it wasn't the same.