POWER CORD

There is a common theme in our household, the disappearance of the power cord. Each Apple device, the iPhone, the laptop and the iPad all have similar type chargers and at least once a week one of my daughters walks out of her bedroom and asks, “Who has my power cord for my phone, mom I know that you took it!” While my daughters are at school, my wife will go into one of their rooms and grab their cord with the best intention to put the cord back before she picks them up from school, but then forgets. She will then try to explain to them that she misplaced her cord and needed to charge her phone. Neither of my daughters want to hear any excuses as to why she came into their room and “stole” their cord, they just want their cord back, now. For years I have tried everything to differentiate the cords by writing names on the plug or coloring the cord with different color of Sharpies, but the cords continue to disappear. It makes me wonder why Apple has not tried to monetize this problem that plagues their customers. In my opinion, Apple should produce power cords and plug ins that come in the colors of the rainbow, anything other color than just white. I personally would pay a premium for the colored plugs and cords just to quiet the noise that results from the “borrowing” of the cords. I cannot believe that I am the only parent that struggles with this problem. I would love to be able to have my family's favorite colors available this Christmas to stuff these colored cords into their stockings with a note explaining the color they have is theirs, and if it ends up anywhere else in the house than their room, we will all have evidence of who took their power cord. 

Last spring, I went with my family to Mexico to visit my father. Twenty years ago, my father and his wife purchased a small casita in a town an hour north of Cabo San Lucas. When I talk to others about their home in Las Barriles, some will think that my dad is wealthy. The truth is that my father purchased the home for less than $2500 a year over the period they have owned the home. They spend the winter in Mexico which allows my family to travel down to see him and enjoy old Mexico, a place where there are more goats and Longhorns walking through the small town of Las Barriles than there are people. Last year before they traveled down to Mexico, my father was diagnosed with a nervous system disease called Multiple System Apathy. The disease is very rare with less than 10,000 cases worldwide. Over time, the disease will take over his entire muscular and nervous system. He will first lose his ability to walk, then the use of his arms and eventually he will be unable to feed or breathe for himself. For now, the disease has started to distress the muscles in his legs. He walks with two canes unless the terrain is rough, then he uses a walker. This has not stopped him from making his way out into the yard each day to pull weeds from the garden or work on his truck in his shop. But eventually his strength in his legs and his arms will be gone. It is not a question of if but only when. He knows however that the day will come when the canes and walkers will be replaced with a wheelchair and eventually, he will be unable to rise by himself from his bed.

He made his way over to the table where I was sitting refusing to let his wife help him. He sat down with a bit of a thud as he grabbed the chair next to him. We sat together first ignoring the obvious topic. We caught up on what he was working on in his shop and other small conversations about my job and my family’s flight to Mexico. He asked me about each of the kids and then in the middle of the conversation he suddenly changed the topic to his final days. He shared with me, “When I reach a point where I cannot breathe or eat by myself and there are only feeding tubes and machines keeping me alive, I want you to know, I don’t want to live like that. You must promise me to honor my desire to have the plug pulled and let me die.” There was only silence. I looked across the room at his wife and I could tell by the expression on her face that they have already had this conversation, more than once. However, I am not sure my dad believes that when the time comes for the plug to be pulled and cord to fall to the ground that his wife will be emotionally strong enough to follow through with his request.

When my dad is not in Mexico, he lives near Bend Oregon. In 1997, Oregon enacted the Death with Dignity Act which allows terminally ill patients to end their lives through the voluntary self-administration of lethal medications, expressly prescribed by a physician for that purpose. This means that my father legally can make the decision that will allow him to “die with dignity.” The catch here is that the medication must be self-administered which means my dad cannot wait till he loses the strength in his arms or the ability to use his hands. If he does, legally no one else will be able to administer the medication, in essence “Pull the plug”. So long before the disease forces my dad to be fed with a tube or have machines breathing for him, he will have to make the decision to take his own life. He will not be able to leave it in the hands of others if he wants to legally die with dignity.

Returning home, I realized that finding cords and plugs to recharge my daughter’s iPhone has taken on a whole new meaning. When I think about the plug being pulled so that my father can die with dignity, it brings up all kinds of questions of trust and control. I understand his request, and I am not sure if I too would not want to have my life end with my mind active but imprisoned in this jail cell that I once called my body. I cannot imagine having my wife and children come to a care facility to visit me and I am not able to share with them how much I love them and how proud I am of all the things that they have accomplished. I would want to reach my arms out and hold them tight and love each of them. Instead I would only be able to blink my eyes to maybe answer their questions with a “yes” or a “no”.

But then there is the question of trusting God and accepting that he is in control and that in every circumstance there is a purpose. If I truly believe this then maybe in my struggle someone may see Christ illuminating through me and find their way to overcome their own challenges in life. If this one event could lead someone to find the true source of power, then am I to stand in the way of this by reaching out to that cord and pulling on it? “Let me die with dignity”, this is my father’s simple request. Can I promise him that I will be able to pull on the cord and watch the plug fall to the floor? Would I by this act of kindness be telling others around me that I have given up on my faith. Eventually I will stand with this cord in my hand, it is inevitable. I ask myself, “Am I to take on the role that God is supposed to play in this world?”

“Dad have you seen my power cord?” asks my daughter Olivia. She is notified that the battery on her iPhone is running low. It isn’t until her phone warns her that her battery is below 10% does she even care about the location of her cord. The alert acts as a wake-up call for her, and she begins the search. My father has been alerted that his life battery is below 20% and he knows that the next alert will be 10%. There is no cord he can reach for that will change his fate, his battery will eventually run out and he will die. He knows that he has lived an amazing eighty plus years and he has always been someone who has been in control of his own destiny. His internal battery that he has drawn on for life has always been full. From my earliest memories of my dad, he has always been busy with things. He never liked to just sit idle. But he knows now that as the disease eats away at his body, his ability to be in control will be lost. His only request is to have this one last chance of control.

“Yes, Olivia, I have seen your power cord” I respond. She quickly runs out of her room into the kitchen and grabs it from me. “Thanks dad. Love you.”, she says as she grabs the cord and then an apple and heads back into her room. Just one time I want to respond differently by telling her yes and as she runs into the kitchen. I want to sit down with her and tell her about a power cord, one different than the cord she seeks. This cord leads to the Word where she can discover what has taken me so long to accept, I am not in control. Instead, I need to trust in something far greater than myself. Eventually I hope that I can explain to her that the power cord in this life comes only from our Heavenly Father and when she learns to accept this, she too will finally find peace. This is the same peace that I now seek as I struggle to know how to honor my earthly father’s wish for his life.

This Father's Day, I hope that we each take time to honor our fathers and to thank them for lessons they have taught us.

13 Abraham looked up and there in a thicket he saw a ram caught by its horns. He went over and took the ram and sacrificed it as a burnt offering instead of his son. 14 So Abraham called that place The Lord Will Provide. And to this day it is said, 'On the mountain of the Lord it will be provided.' Genesis 22: 13,14