Run, pray, bake, buy books—it’s how I cope. (Here—have a heart-healthy cookie.)

When crisis hits, how do you cope? During the past two weeks, I have discovered: Some people pop pills, some people sleep in...I bake, and I buy books. In the 10 days since my father’s unexpected heart surgery, I can’t seem to get enough of cookies and Amazon. Cookies for anybody who might need them (this should exclude me, but it doesn’t) and books for Dad. Memoirs, cookbooks, physiological textbooks—written words of various kinds that might help make sense of this mystery: How did my dad, Mr. Runner Man of A-Town for almost the past 3 decades, end up in this spot? Sitting in his mocha brown La-Z-Boy recliner, in his black-and-red checkered fleece robe, recovering from bypass surgery. It’s incredible.

The actual morning of Dad’s operation, I ran and I prayed. I wasn’t authorized to run. My $#@%! pelvis is still misaligned 8 ½ months after I slipped on the ice and wounded my stubborn psoas muscle. But I couldn’t help but run that day. In my family, running is a form of prayer, so I ran. And after I ran, I prayed some more. I climbed the sandstone steps on the side of St. Joseph’s Catholic Church and entered through the ornate door that an angel opens every morning at 6. I knelt, I cried, I implored and I waited—waited for that sense that the Spirit of God had heard me, was with me, was with my dad, and was “on the job.” Then I went home and waited some more. Around 11:15, I got the call: Dad was out, Dad was stable, Dad was gonna be OK.

But “gonna be OK” takes time, I’m realizing. I’m learning that recovery from heart surgery is as much about the head as the heart—if not moreso. And it’s not just the patient’s heart, but also the hearts of the people whose hearts beat with the patient’s, loving the patient, encouraging the patient, being patient with the patient…sometimes being patient for the patient.

Of the hundreds of races you’ve run, Dad, I am rooting for you in this one far more than ever. And I’m not alone. A crowd has gathered. This may be a marathon with hills, but you’re no fool. You’ve done your hill-work homework, and hill-work is speed-work in disguise. Speedy recovery…or however long it takes. You are indescribably worthwhile.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith, who for the joy set before him, endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.” (Hebrews 12:1-3, NIV)