<-- home
A Walk With God Through the Shadowed Valley
by Becky Hobbs© Fall 1996 Reformed Quarterly
The surgeon walked into the room wearing a rumpled set of surgical scrubs, with fatigue unmistakably evident all over his face. Ed Hartman (RTS '91) had been sitting alone on the edge of the bed in an empty hospital room on the fourth floor of the University of Mississippi Medical Center. Just a few hours earlier his wife, Amy, (daughter to RTS/Jackson Professor Dr. William Hogan) had been wheeled down to undergo a surgical biopsy on a fist-sized brain tumor that had been discovered through an MRI forty-eight hours earlier.
The neurosurgeon took a seat opposite the bed, sighed deeply, and looked at Ed, as if waiting for him to ask the question, "How'd it go?" Ed asked. Taking a long, deep breath, the doctor said, "Not as well as we had hoped. The tumor is far more virulent than we had expected, and is definitely inoperable." He paused, and again, just stared. His agony in telling Ed these things was clear. So Ed quietly asked the only question that seemed to follow from the doctor's response, "Is she terminal?" Another lengthy pause, then he quietly said, "I'm sorry."
Ed's mind began reeling, as all the questions he desperately wanted to ask screamed at him. Yet all he could manage was the question he had already asked, "Are you telling me I'm about to lose my wife?" Again the surgeon softly replied, "I am so sorry. We will do all we can for her." And with few more words, he stood, put his hand on Ed's shoulder, and left the room.
Since that day in August a little over a year ago, God has called Ed and Amy to walk with Him through the darkest, most frightful valley of their young lives. It has turned their personal world upside down and created challenges for Ed in his ministry at First Presbyterian Church in Kosciusko, Mississippi. The struggles have been many, but God's grace and power have overcome, blessing scores of people and sustaining the entire Hartman family, especially through the caring members of their congregation.
The ordeal began so innocently. On August 10, 1995, Amy came home with a headache after joining a friend for lunch. Although she didn't think much about it, after several hours and a few doses of medication, it still remained. "I have my first migraine," she thought. A few days later she still had a constant headache, and her mother advised calling Jackson neurologist Dr. James Corbett, a personal friend, who wanted to see her right away. But Amy put it off for another week, not wanting to bother Ed about it, since he was preparing to leave for a short study trip to California. After he left she lay on the couch, pampering her headache and trying to manage their four small children. But the headache worsened to the point that Amy had to be sedated, and friends called Jane Hogan, her mother, to come take care of her and the children.
Meanwhile, Ed flew home immediately and took Amy to see Dr. Corbett. We had no idea what he was testing for -- perhaps viral meningitis," recalls Amy. "What we saw when he put up the results of the MRI scan was a bright, white mass in my head. Unbelievably, I had a huge brain tumor." She was admitted to the hospital that day and began massive doses of Decadron, a steroid which mercifully has eased her headaches dramatically.
A biopsy the next day showed that Amy had the most virulent and deadly brain tumor of all -- a glioblastoma. Since it affected the hypothalamus, the mass was inoperable and the prognosis not good. She began treatment immediately and has had the maximum amount of radiation a human safely can receive. Her chemotherapy will continue for five more months.
That God is at work in Amy's illness is quite evident. Her neuro-oncologist, Dr. Ruth Fredericks, is amazed that Amy is doing so well a year after being diagnosed; some who were diagnosed with her condition at the same time have already died. Her chemotherapy is designed only to keep the tumor from growing larger, yet a recent MRI scan showed it had shrunk by twenty percent.
WITNESS A MODEL CHURCH
Although the cancer is a brutal illness, disrupting Amy's mind and body and throwing into chaos both family and church life, Ed and Amy praise God for the gentle, unexpected blessings He has bestowed on them.
One of the wonderful evidences of that consummate care is the support they have received from their church. The Hartmans have no unmet needs --medically, spiritually, emotionally, or relationally. What the Lord has not provided personally, the church has made available as a family, modeling splendidly how Christ's body should react when one of its own is suffering.
For example, the night before the biopsy, the elders of the church came and prayed with Ed and Amy in her hospital room. They also immediately gave Ed a month's leave of absence when Amy was diagnosed and have generously accommodated him by rescheduling meetings to help the family adjust. Church members either came themselves or sent others to clean the house and watch the children while Amy was in the hospital. Various members also drove Amy to Jackson for each of the seven weeks of radiation. Everyone has found unique ways to help and give pleasure. A friend who owns a flower shop has fresh-cut blossoms delivered to the house every Tuesday. Women in the church arrive each morning to take Amy for exercise. Others take her shopping. Some people come just to be with her.
While doctors are amazed that Amy shows virtually no signs of neurological dysfunction, the illness has affected her thinking and memory. Having an adult companion helps her stay mentally focused. "When we interviewed for the job in Kosciusko, I told Amy that they needed someone far more gifted and experienced than I as a pastor," reveals Ed. "Quite frankly, I have concluded that the Lord brought us to this church far more for our benefit than theirs."
Amy's illness has also pulled the community together in unexpected ways. Other churches gathered to pray for her with First Presbyterian one afternoon and have continued to do so, asking frequently about her progress. People from other churches bring meals; almost everyday the Hartmans receive encouraging cards and letters in the mail. Thousands of people all over the world are lifting Amy's condition before the Lord, many who have never even met her. One mother of small children so identifies with Amy that she has placed the Hartman family's names on a card in her coin purse, praying for Amy each time she opens it.
One of the greatest signs of God's providence has been the gift of a nanny for the Hartman children. Only God could have orchestrated the hiring of nineteen-year-old Amy Hensarling ("Little Amy"), a friend and former babysitter from Edwards, Mississippi, where the Hartmans had pastored before coming to Kosciusko in 1995. Shortly after Amy's diagnosis, Little Amy called to say that she was praying for them and would do anything she could to help. Next, an individual from a former church in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, said that she and others wanted to fund a nanny for at least a year. Finally, a recent widow at First Presbyterian asked Ed if he knew anyone who would like to live rent-free in her home to keep her company.
Within three days, Little Amy was at work in the Hartman home, playing surrogate mother to four children who adore her. The feeling is definitely mutual. Little Amy goes to visit her parents on the weekend, and that's the cue for Sid and Stirling Steen to move into action. A couple at First Presbyterian who love the Hartman children and are committed to the Lord's service, the Steens often take some of the children to their home each weekend, entertaining and caring for them.
GOD'S GRACE IS SUFFICIENT
Ed and Amy, by their own admission, have dealt with this challenge in distinctive ways. They struggle with different issues, but both have seen God's gracious, protecting, and loving hand in each circumstance. "From the beginning I have felt an incredible peace," says Amy. "I know God has a plan for me in all this. I also feel that I am the least affected by this illness. If God allows me to live, it is His will and that is wonderful; I like my life --I have a marvelous husband and four dear children. But if God chooses not to let me live, I will be in eternity with Him. I can't lose."
Conversely, Ed has a different trial confronting him. "I find myself grieving over this situation in a way that Amy doesn't," he confesses. "I stand to lose my wife, the mother of my children. The uncertainty of the future is overwhelming. I tend to project far down the road, and God's Word tells us not to do that." Adds Amy, "We try to take life one day at a time, not thinking about what tomorrow might hold. We are learning to trust the Lord for each day."
Ed and Amy candidly admit that their lives are marked by chaos, uncertainty, and anxiety, things which they must take before the Lord each day. Amy struggles to make herself discipline the children; more often than not she thinks, "How much longer will they have me? I don't want strife and hard feelings." Once very organized and efficient (traits that Ed came to depend upon), Amy now forgets most things unless she is careful to write them down. "I don't know how many times I have written half a letter, such as describing our wonderful Thanksgiving, then become distracted, and the next time I find it, May has rolled around."
But the good outweighs the bad, and the couple has discovered that God has brought them closer together. While there is less order and stability in their lives, they are experiencing a greater degree of intimacy, a deeper sense of connectedness. They are also understanding more about the character of the God they serve. "God has demonstrated to us over and over again that His work toward His children is always driven by goodness--unchanging and unmixed goodness," says Ed. "This is what I know is true. If I evaluate my experience by what I know is true about Him, I am calm. If I try to evaluate my theology by what is happening in our lives, I get a very deficient view of God and what He has promised to do. I realized that the vital question I had to answer in my valley was this: would I, here and now, embrace or reject what I have always said I believe? Shortly after the diagnosis, a friend of mine whose son died in infancy said, 'Ed, this is not the time to be figuring out your theology. You do not doubt in the dark what was clear in the light.' He's right."
Amy says, "Ed and I have never felt that the Lord has abandoned us. He has been close by us throughout this whole ordeal. We have what we call our stones of remembrance, similar to the Ebenezer stones which were constant reminders to the people of Israel that the Lord had helped them thus far. We think of all the ways He has made our burden lighter, demonstrating His goodness, mercy, compassion, and faithfulness. We know that he will continue to deal with us in this way."
The church has benefitted from Amy's illness, too. Ed's preaching has taken on an entirely different perspective; now when he preaches on suffering and prayer, he preaches from the heart. His counseling load has quadrupled since the illness, indicating he may understand more how to help hurting people. "As we walk through this valley, I know that God will answer our prayers," says Ed confidently. "I am pleading with Him to heal Amy, and I know that He will either do that or do something more excellent. Of that I am certain. I don't know what more excellent thing that might be or what it might cost."
THE GLEAM OF GOD'S GLORY
Through her illness, Amy has developed a reputation for having a positive, optimistic perspective. Many are humbled by her optimism in the face of such a great challenge, realizing that their complaints are very minor in comparison. Her cheerful spirit seeks to uplift, never drawing attention to herself.
Once, Jane Hogan, her mother, was waiting for Amy to come in for her radiation treatment. When Amy arrived, she was carrying an armload of fresh flowers, but she didn't explain why as she hurried in for her appointment. A few minutes later, an elderly lady, obviously another cancer patient, came out carrying the flowers. She had a big smile on her face as she danced around the waiting room, saying, "Amy brought me these flowers!" It turned out that it was the lady's final day of treatment, and Amy had brought her the flowers to help her celebrate.
Her faith in God points all of us toward Him. She sees her illness as a sacred trust from God, and her prayer is that this test might in some way glorify the One who loves her. "I sat on my daughter's hospital bed last August," reveals her father, Bill Hogan, "and said, 'Sweetheart, I would give anything if I could trade places with you.' She replied, 'I wouldn't want that, Dad. This is something God has entrusted to me.' "That's been her attitude all along," he continues. "I look at her -- upbeat, cheerful, more concerned about others than about herself, believing that God has entrusted her with something that may well take her life, believing that He wants to use the experience for His glory -and I say that only God can sustain a person like that. Oh, I will be thrilled if He heals her and one day an MRI scan comes up clean. But even if that doesn't happen, I have seen the gleam of the glory of God in the face of my daughter."
We have seen it, too, and have been warmed, blessed, and humbled in its glow. We will never forget.
Reprinted here with permission from The Reformed Quarterly, an official publication of Reformed Theological Seminary, Jackson, Mississippi.