Nick's Notes: Praise You In the Storm

by Nick Alexander

It has been my intention to follow up my last Nick's Notes article, about finding exceptional worship songs, with another article about how to discern which untested songs may work well for a congregational setting. However, over the last three months I have been thrust into a trial that I wish to recount here. I suspect that I would be able to continue my series in future installments.

My father-in-law, Richard, is a good man, a devout Catholic, and had been afflicted with epilepsy for nearly his whole life. A recent series of events (which included a minor traffic violation that caused the removal of his license), made him decide to do something about it: enlist for brain surgery.

This particular surgery, mind you, was among the most basic of surgeries … and he had it performed at one of the top hospitals in the state, by a doctor who has performed this surgery for well over twenty-five years.

This surgery came and went. Other than his complaints of a terrible headache, he was well on his way to recovery. He had one last surgery remaining, the replacement of that skull portion with a metallic plate—the portion removed that made the surgery possible.

Then early on Sunday morning, everything changed for the worse. A blood vessel burst in his head. The doctors caught the problem in time, and he was stabilized, but he had lapsed into a coma.

We were terrified. How could this happen? How did this procedure, done hundreds of times by one of the most proficient neurosurgeons in the country, go so terribly wrong? We didn't know if Richard would come back, and we sent the word out to close friends, family members, and clergy that prayers were most needed.

My mother-in-law had made great pains to visit Richard in intensive care on a daily basis, and my wife visited whenever she could. They prayed the rosary. They gave the nursing staff a healing-ministry-audio CD to be played in the room when they were not there. Their priest visited often to administer the sacrament of the sick. They conversed with him, watched television with him, and returned home emotionally spent.

Three and a half weeks went by, with no idea as to what to expect from this ordeal. Maryellen's family had never endured such a test before. I found myself in a position where I had to be a rock for my wife, and also for her family; dutifully helping out whenever I could, inviting the mother-in-law over for dinners, and taking care of minor errands that would have normally been cared for.

Miraculously, after three and a half weeks, his eyes opened. Our prayers had been answered. We were thrilled.

But this was not the end—in fact, it was only the beginning. Rehabilitation had begun. He was in an emaciated state, and he couldn't remember all details. ("This is normal behavior for post-comatose patients", said the nursing staff, encouragingly). He had to learn to walk again. He had to move from a feeding tube, to pureed food, to advancing to a knife and fork. He had to be transferred to a rehabilitation clinic about forty-five minutes from our home. And oftentimes, a family relative would travel there—at increased gas prices—only to discover that he was too tired to accomplish much of anything that day.

More than ever, I had to be the husband I needed to be at this time. Character traits that I never knew were in me had to be made evident. Maryellen and her family needed all the help they could get, and I knew that I had to be that calming, stabilizing force in their lives. I needed to encourage, find ways to be flexible for her, and be patient when things didn't go our way. It was my job to help Maryellen, to love her, assist her, and allot to her additional strength and courage. I needed to take the added responsibility of watching over our twin newborns, to cook whenever possible, to give her a night off for her to spend as she pleases, and to share with her how I am proud of her during this time. We have been married for seven years, and our marriage has never undergone such a stress-filled situation … I needed to assure her that she could rely upon me if she needed to.

Where was I drawing my strength from? Sunday Eucharist, for starters. Spiritual reading (during the bottle-feedings). Specific podcasts and DVR'd episodes from EWTN.

And music. Lots and lots and lots of music, collected in specialized playlists on my MP3 player.

I'm not speaking about just any music. I had made it a priority to search and find songs from varied sources—Catholic, Contemporary Christian, and secular that help me define what it is to be a man, to be of great courage, to be a strong husband with a gentle heart. Songs based on scripture passages that encourage me in my walk, like Ephesians 6:11-18, or Jeremiah 29:11. Songs that, upon repeat play, will continually remind me of what my calling is, and whose lyrics will give me strength to be the husband my wife needs me to be at this time.

So as I was helping Maryellen and her family, I was being sustained by lyrics that continually reminded me of what it meant to step up to be the father in the household. These lyrics were made alive by melodies that were as memorable, as they were infectious. Long after I had taken my earphones off, I still was reminded that I could really step up and be the person God wanted me to be at this moment.

I also want to be careful; I can understand that there may be others reading this who underwent similar trials, and those trials came out very differently, perhaps in the worst case. I don't want to be the facile music spokesperson who would dare claim that, by purchasing certain songs, you would find your burdens lightened, your problems solved, your pain erased. I don't dare want to be glib.

But for this moment in time, I found that music gave me the strength to be the support my wife needed me to be. And if I could be sustained during this difficult time, and partially attribute it to the power of great music, then I would humbly suggest that perhaps we can find a new way to relate to music, not merely as ear candy, not merely as white noise, but as a tool to help us grow in character, in times where we are called upon to make use of it.

It's been several months since, but as of this past Monday, my father-in-law has finally returned to home, where he will recuperate. He still has that final surgery to go through. The family will still have needs to be met. Things are looking up, but they can still turn on a dime. I hope to be there for them. And I'm most grateful for the songs that helped me do so.

Editor: Nick was kind enough to share his iMix of the songs he spoke of in his commentary.

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