Stop this Train...

Three years ago today, my life changed forever.

I exited the shower to a ringing phone while Sarah, exhausted from being up all night with an 8 week old Jackson, grumbled about somebody “really needing to get ahold of me.” It was 7:13, so I picked it up... There really is no way to prepare yourself to hear the words “The paramedics are taking Dad to the hospital; he’s had a stroke and can barely talk- you need to get here as soon as possible.” I immediately broke out in a sweat and began to breathe heavily; I had to collect myself; “Get it together- make a plan and execute it; put on clothes, call your boss, and go.” UCI Medical Center was 16 miles of rush hour traffic away...which meant at least 30-45 minutes of wondering if getting into a dumb fight over something inconsequential would be the last words I shared with my father. My grandfather died when I was 2 months old; Jackson was 2 months old. “WHAT THE HELL, GOD?” is all I could think. I had such expectations for them...

Growing up, my dad and I fought a lot; he wasn’t a perfect father and I wasn’t the perfect son. It wasn’t really until about a year into my marriage that the Lord changed me and gave me the right words to speak to my dad. Entirely not of myself, I wrote a letter to him that, simply put, changed things for both of us. The process of restoration began and I am so grateful for God bringing peace to our relationship...at least we had that.

In the ICU, Dad’s doctor met with us to review the films of his CT scan; after she explained how a stroke worked and that there was no way to tell the permanence of his paralysis or if he would even live, I needed to go for a walk to clear my head. “There’s no way to tell” kept ringing in my ears. Mom and I found a nurse’s station, tucked away, and wept...

Dad was in the hospital for 9 months before he finally went home; the first couple of which, we didn’t know if each day would be his last. He is still paralyzed and is a different person. Bill Frenzel is still here, but I lost my father that day...

That fall/winter pretty much broke me. Within about a month, there was Dad’s stroke, my parents’ house falling apart, their estate in disarray, Sarah’s sister’s being really sick for 4 months, and the ripple effect on our marriage that ensued- all on the heals of a brand new baby, a brand new career for me, and our fledgling photography business. November 15th was a different world than November 14th...and this is how I felt.

If I had the choice, I can’t really say I’d do it all again. I’m not particularly glad that it happened, but I can’t imagine my life being the same without Dad’s stroke. I can’t imagine it being as rich or meaningful. There’s a quote that says, “Adversity introduces a man to himself.” I gotta be honest, I don’t like the man I met about 2 1/2 years ago, but I’m starting to now. What I realized was that in my brokenness, I was/am being made whole again by a loving Creator. In my loss, I now truly understand the value of life and living. In my pain, I realized how the Joy of the Lord can’t be contingent on whether you are dying of AIDS in India or own a home in Orange County. Going back to a November 14th world would be nice, but I wouldn't trade it for the enrichment of living in a post-November 15th world.