Read This When Your Heart Drops Out

What to Do as a Christian When You’re Waiting for Your Answers

5-6 minute read. Audio also included for those who prefer to listen.

If You Need Hope for Better Days…

Have you ever had a hope so high that Mount Everest got jealous? It’s a wonderful and dangerous place to be. Today I want to share with you a story from my life about hope built and hope deferred. Why? To encourage you to keep going.

Here’s the context of the story:

I was 4 years in to the neck/brain/nervous system injury (maybe I’ll write more about how the injury happened another time).

Most of my days were spent either resting or working tirelessly to understand my body, often prepping hours and hours for meetings with doctors and neurologists so I could propose solutions they may have missed. After years of tests, MRIs, CT scans, X-rays, dozens of doctors, and countless hours of compiling and organizing data, I’d built a list of 4 root causes I felt certain the neurosurgeon, after reviewing my imaging, would say, “yup, that’s the ticket.”

The rest of this piece is an unedited conversation I shared with my friend Zack Tusing on July 7, 2023. He’s the only young twenty-something I know who understands my world of brain, neck, and spine better than I do.

Me in the waiting room before seeing Dr. Adada

A Chat with Zack After My First Neurosurgery Consultation

7/7/23 - my story, texted to my only friend who understands: Zack Tusing

Zack: “how did your day go?”

Me: “It was good. I felt like I prepped very well, and Dr. Adada was very attentive. You were right he was much more interested than the typical neurologist. The good news is he asked me good questions and answered all of mine. The bad news is we basically ruled out everything I thought could be the problem. Chiari is not present. He sees no alar ligament damage. He sees no issue with my Atlas. And according to him there isn’t any CCI. So basically we looked at each other and we’re like “what else can we do?” And we had no answers. So I’m kinda back to square one it seems. I’m still holding hope that the July 12 Atlas adjustment will be useful, and that maybe the Atlas specialist can see something Dr. Adada didn’t. Just a fascinating case I suppose.

A from-the-side view of a brain MRI taken earlier in the week. The yellow line shows how much space my brain stem has and if it is dipping too low in my skull.

I walked out the fourth floor and took the elevator downstairs pretty disappointed and glazed over. The backpack I carried was the only other person who knew my trouble. I found a bathroom and looked myself in the mirror and breathed deep and said,

Me in the Cleveland Clinic bathroom after the news. Feeling very, very small.

“This is the part in the story where I STILL don’t know what’s going on.”

And just started laughing. Like what else, you know? Felt kinda crazy. Wanted to play “The Places We Won’t Walk” by Bruno Major on the piano in the lobby but it was a self-playing piano so I couldn’t. Went to the cafeteria and got a little protein pack, a nut and dried fruit thingy and an unsweetened hibiscus iced tea. And I sat outside in the courtyard eating all alone in the fresh air. 

Me in the Cleveland Clinic courtyard with my post-appointment snacks and thoughts.

I loved it and was sad about it all at the same time. 

As I sat in the courtyard eating half a hard boiled egg (and trust me it was very hard boiled), I had a realization.

The heartbreak over a girl I had a year and a half ago - the one I thought would legitimately kill me - is now history and I’m alive and well. So maybe this is the same kind of thing. The thing that feels like it will never end will really end and become a memory. On earth, perhaps. For the rest of eternity, I am certain. This struggle will only be a memory and no longer my reality. And so I ate my food and listened to some music and filmed a little Instagram reel that I’ll probably never post and then I ordered an Uber named Gino who told me about bad Uber practices and put on spa music so I could sleep. 

Today I’m just enjoying today. I don’t know what tomorrow brings. But I just got back from a long walk listening to the 1959 Oscar Peterson Plays The Gershwin Song Book. I found a mango on the ground in the park and ate it while I explored. I stood on a bridge and looked at the turtles and catfish and minnows all play together in the coolest little way. I got back and swept some grass off the sidewalk. And now I’m texting you.

The beautiful flowers in my neighborhood I enjoyed later that day.

I don’t have answers yet. And somehow, while I am sad and disappointed by it, and while I feel like a hypochondriac and have caught myself wondering if maybe somehow I’m making this all up, I’m truly ok [with my situation].”

If You’re Waiting for Your Answers…

Can you remember something that was a big deal to you a year ago? Maybe you lost your job or your rent was due or the person you were crushing on said, “sorry, I only like Chad tehe.”

Or maybe it was way bigger, something that still rocks you to this day. A disease. A divorce. A death.

These things are HARD, and the emotional whiplash they give us is sickening. Scripture even says so.

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.” (Proverbs 13:12).

Me a few days later, waiting for another doctor’s appointment.

And yet God tells us our pain can be a terrific thing. This waiting you’re in is a training ground for contentment, for trust, and for you to become a perseverant, character-filled, deeply hopeful person. See?

“I am not saying this out of need, for I have learned to be content regardless of my circumstances. I know how to live humbly, and I know how to abound. I am accustomed to any and every situation—to being filled and being hungry, to having plenty and having need. I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:11-13, emphasis added)

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” (Romans 8:18, emphasis added)

“Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” (Romans 5:3-4, emphasis added)

If You’re Still Waiting, I Have One Message for You…

Keep going, brother. Keep going, sister. You will be ok.

The thing that crushed you a year ago is small potatoes now. And the thing that is crushing you now will be small potatoes very, very soon.

I pray you find contentment and that the Lord teaches you to walk happily with Him at the speed of today.

And I also pray that Jesus, the healer, will heal you.

(He can do it.)

Toby DeMoss

PS if you’ve never seen it, the below video may help put the smallness of our potatoes into perspective and give you hope for the good to come. Watch it if you have a couple extra moments today :)