Hope from My Heart: 10 Lessons for Life (Hardback)

Preface.............................................................11
LESSON ONE  HOPE....................................................14
LESSON TWO  PERSISTENCE.............................................24
LESSON THREE  CONFIDENCE............................................34
LESSON FOUR  OPTIMISM...............................................44
LESSON FIVE  RESPECT................................................54
LESSON SIX  ACCOUNTABILITY..........................................64
LESSON SEVEN  FAMILY................................................76
LESSON EIGHT  FREEDOM...............................................86
LESSON NINE  FAITH..................................................96
LESSON TEN  GRACE..................................................106
Epilogue...........................................................116

Chapter One

LESSON ONE

H O P E

* * *

No human life is without problems, and I have certainly seen my share. But I have always done my best to view problems as challenges and to never lose hope. I've always believed that a good challenge presents new opportunities—opportunities to learn, to grow, to gain strength, or to reach a higher goal. And I've always believed that the future is in God's hands.

    Three years ago, I found myself lying on a gurney in a hospital in a foreign country, being wheeled toward an operating room for a heart transplant. The odds of survival were stacked against me. Up until that moment, I had called the shots for the challenges in my life. I usually set the course. Sink or swim, the responsibility had most often been mine. But this time, I most certainly was not in control.

    The very first hint of a problem had appeared almost fourteen years earlier. The day began as any other, but sometime during the morning, I began to feel very unsteady on my feet, as if I were continually losing my balance. I'd bump into doorframes as I exited doorways. Even when I'd set a straight course, I couldn't seem to stop from veering to the left side as I moved.

    My wife, Helen, urged me to call the doctor. As my usual optimistic self, I resisted. I was certain that a little rest was all that was necessary to get me back on my feet. But Helen persisted, and I finally agreed.

    We were expecting the doctor to prescribe a pill, but instead, he insisted that I immediately check into the hospital for further testing. The final diagnosis was that I had suffered a transient ischemic attack, or TIA, which, the doctors explained, was a warning that a stroke or heart attack was in the making. The doctors advised me to make changes in my lifestyle.

    With characteristic determination, I met the problem—the challenge—head-on. I changed my diet, reduced my cholesterol level, and made exercise a part of my daily routine. Also true to character, I resumed my usual hectic schedule of meetings, speaking engagements, and the endless day-to-day details involved in operating Amway with my business partner, Jay Van Andel.

    Three years later, on a Fourth of July weekend, our children—Dick, Dan, Cheri, and Doug—and I competed in the Queen's Cup race on our fifty-foot racing sloop, Windquest. It was an overnight race across Lake Michigan—from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, to Grand Haven, Michigan. For a pre-race event, we set out in the evening from Grand Haven.

    We love the intensity of yacht racing, which requires great physical energy and mental concentration. I was helping with sail changes and spinnaker takedowns when I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I didn't want to worry everyone, so I said nothing about the pain. I just went below and tried to get some rest for the remainder of the night. By the following morning, however, I could no longer ignore the chest pains, and we arranged for a plane to pick me up in Milwaukee and fly me home to Grand Rapids.

    In the hospital, a stress test revealed a coronary artery blockage, and Dr. Luis Tomatis, a thoracic surgeon, determined that bypass surgery was necessary.

    The last thing I ever expected was to be a candidate for open-heart surgery. Perhaps I'd forgotten about the TIA and the doctor's warning that came with it. Or maybe I was convinced that my healthier diet and exercise routine had solved the problem. At any rate, I was surprised and somewhat discouraged. I found that hope is more difficult to maintain during unexpected challenges.

    During surgery, the doctors discovered more arterial damage than they had expected. Instead of bypassing three or four coronary arteries, they operated on six. Nonetheless, the surgery was a success, and the experience gave me a new appreciation of life and new reasons to hope. It also made me more aware of the passage of time. Prior to this, my future had always seemed firmly in place. Suddenly it became less certain. During the recovery process, I learned to relax more, to take more leisure time for myself, and to begin fulfilling some of the dreams Helen and I shared.

    Unfortunately, however, my battle with deteriorating health was just beginning. In the summer of 1992, I suffered a stroke. Thankfully, it wasn't terribly severe, but it prompted me to grapple with the difficult question of whether I should continue as president of Amway. I loved the business, and with my partner, Jay, had devoted a large part of my life to nurturing its growth. We had weathered many storms and lived to see the fruits of our labor grow into a large, wonderfully successful company. But I had to ask myself, Was the daily stress of running a large corporation potentially threatening to my life? That was a topic I resisted addressing, and a question I certainly didn't want to answer in the affirmative.

    I was now on the most healthful diet I had ever eaten in my life, I was exercising regularly, and I was leading a much more leisurely existence. But in spite of all these lifestyle changes, one morning in December, I awoke at about 4:00 A.M. with terrible chest pains. I knew I was having a heart attack.

    I was rushed by ambulance to the hospital emergency room, and after I arrived there, my heart almost stopped beating. I remember hearing a nurse in the emergency room counting down my pulse rate. Then I heard her say, "There's no pulse." I don't remember much after that. Mercifully, I passed out.

    The doctors managed to revive me, but they were uncertain as to whether I would survive. Dr. Tomatis and Dr. Rick McNamara began talking to my family about an experimental procedure that was being performed at the Cleveland Clinic. They suggested contacting the clinic to see if I could be admitted. When my family inquired about the possibility, the top surgeon at the clinic agreed to examine me, but he wanted everyone to understand that he was making no promises regarding taking me on as a patient. Once again, my hope was buoyed.

    My memories of that time are vague, but my oldest son, Dick, remembers that at the clinic, Dr. Cosgrove was rather brusque when I was first wheeled in. He performed his examination, looked at the charts and test results, and then said that he wouldn't make any decisions about taking my case until after he examined me again in the morning. The doctor, who has since become a friend, admitted later that he really didn't expect me to live through the night. The fact that I did was an indication to him that I had a chance, albeit slight, of surviving surgery.

    After making sure that we all understood the risks, he agreed to perform bypass surgery. It was a long procedure, involving three bypasses, and Dr. Cosgrove reported that my heart muscle was severely damaged. My doctors felt confident, however, that my condition would be more stable than it was before the surgery. In hospital-speak, I was in "guarded" condition.

    Though weak, I was able to return home in time to celebrate Christmas with my family. The joy was short-lived, however, because I soon developed a staph infection in my chest. In the following weeks, the doctors opened up my chest three more times in their fight to clear up the infection, which had eaten into my ribs, sternum, and the muscle tissue surrounding the incision. I was a mess. Because so much tissue was lost, Dr. Moore, a plastic surgeon, had to cut my pectoral muscles, reposition them, and rebuild my chest in order to close the incision. It wasn't until much later, after I had regained some strength, that I learned I'd nearly died from the infection.

    By this time, I'd had several close encounters with death. I don't remember those days very well, but I do know that I was prepared to die. When you're heading for major surgery or facing a life-threatening situation, you can't avoid wondering if your time is up. That's when you decide whether you're right with God or not. Whether you are ready to step into eternity. I knew I was because I had committed my life to Jesus Christ. While my hope for a healthy existence wavered, my hope in God and his gift of eternal life remained steady.

    Life does not stand still for any of us. It is full of changes, large and small. Certainly death is the ultimate and final change; each of us will face it at some time. I'd always thought I was ready, that my faith was strong, but you never really know until you're faced with the immediate prospect of your own death. And in my case there was much more to endure, a greater challenge than I could ever imagine, when I underwent a heart transplant—and survived.

    For me, whatever the wind blows my way, hope is constant. I love to sail. When you're out on the water, the wind blows a lot of unsettling conditions your way. So does life. And those unsettling conditions—those changes in our circumstances—can break us or make us. It's not how we handle the good days that determines how well we do in life. It's how we handle the bad days.

    It is hope in God that lights my way along life's path and shines a comforting glow on death's door. That is why I always trust in the Lord and hope for the best.

Chapter One

LESSON ONE

H O P E

* * *

No human life is without problems, and I have certainly seen my share. But I have always done my best to view problems as challenges and to never lose hope. I've always believed that a good challenge presents new opportunities—opportunities to learn, to grow, to gain strength, or to reach a higher goal. And I've always believed that the future is in God's hands.

    Three years ago, I found myself lying on a gurney in a hospital in a foreign country, being wheeled toward an operating room for a heart transplant. The odds of survival were stacked against me. Up until that moment, I had called the shots for the challenges in my life. I usually set the course. Sink or swim, the responsibility had most often been mine. But this time, I most certainly was not in control.

    The very first hint of a problem had appeared almost fourteen years earlier. The day began as any other, but sometime during the morning, I began to feel very unsteady on my feet, as if I were continually losing my balance. I'd bump into doorframes as I exited doorways. Even when I'd set a straight course, I couldn't seem to stop from veering to the left side as I moved.

    My wife, Helen, urged me to call the doctor. As my usual optimistic self, I resisted. I was certain that a little rest was all that was necessary to get me back on my feet. But Helen persisted, and I finally agreed.

    We were expecting the doctor to prescribe a pill, but instead, he insisted that I immediately check into the hospital for further testing. The final diagnosis was that I had suffered a transient ischemic attack, or TIA, which, the doctors explained, was a warning that a stroke or heart attack was in the making. The doctors advised me to make changes in my lifestyle.

    With characteristic determination, I met the problem—the challenge—head-on. I changed my diet, reduced my cholesterol level, and made exercise a part of my daily routine. Also true to character, I resumed my usual hectic schedule of meetings, speaking engagements, and the endless day-to-day details involved in operating Amway with my business partner, Jay Van Andel.

    Three years later, on a Fourth of July weekend, our children—Dick, Dan, Cheri, and Doug—and I competed in the Queen's Cup race on our fifty-foot racing sloop, Windquest. It was an overnight race across Lake Michigan—from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, to Grand Haven, Michigan. For a pre-race event, we set out in the evening from Grand Haven.

    We love the intensity of yacht racing, which requires great physical energy and mental concentration. I was helping with sail changes and spinnaker takedowns when I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I didn't want to worry everyone, so I said nothing about the pain. I just went below and tried to get some rest for the remainder of the night. By the following morning, however, I could no longer ignore the chest pains, and we arranged for a plane to pick me up in Milwaukee and fly me home to Grand Rapids.

    In the hospital, a stress test revealed a coronary artery blockage, and Dr. Luis Tomatis, a thoracic surgeon, determined that bypass surgery was necessary.

    The last thing I ever expected was to be a candidate for open-heart surgery. Perhaps I'd forgotten about the TIA and the doctor's warning that came with it. Or maybe I was convinced that my healthier diet and exercise routine had solved the problem. At any rate, I was surprised and somewhat discouraged. I found that hope is more difficult to maintain during unexpected challenges.

    During surgery, the doctors discovered more arterial damage than they had expected. Instead of bypassing three or four coronary arteries, they operated on six. Nonetheless, the surgery was a success, and the experience gave me a new appreciation of life and new reasons to hope. It also made me more aware of the passage of time. Prior to this, my future had always seemed firmly in place. Suddenly it became less certain. During the recovery process, I learned to relax more, to take more leisure time for myself, and to begin fulfilling some of the dreams Helen and I shared.

    Unfortunately, however, my battle with deteriorating health was just beginning. In the summer of 1992, I suffered a stroke. Thankfully, it wasn't terribly severe, but it prompted me to grapple with the difficult question of whether I should continue as president of Amway. I loved the business, and with my partner, Jay, had devoted a large part of my life to nurturing its growth. We had weathered many storms and lived to see the fruits of our labor grow into a large, wonderfully successful company. But I had to ask myself, Was the daily stress of running a large corporation potentially threatening to my life? That was a topic I resisted addressing, and a question I certainly didn't want to answer in the affirmative.

    I was now on the most healthful diet I had ever eaten in my life, I was exercising regularly, and I was leading a much more leisurely existence. But in spite of all these lifestyle changes, one morning in December, I awoke at about 4:00 A.M. with terrible chest pains. I knew I was having a heart attack.

    I was rushed by ambulance to the hospital emergency room, and after I arrived there, my heart almost stopped beating. I remember hearing a nurse in the emergency room counting down my pulse rate. Then I heard her say, "There's no pulse." I don't remember much after that. Mercifully, I passed out.

    The doctors managed to revive me, but they were uncertain as to whether I would survive. Dr. Tomatis and Dr. Rick McNamara began talking to my family about an experimental procedure that was being performed at the Cleveland Clinic. They suggested contacting the clinic to see if I could be admitted. When my family inquired about the possibility, the top surgeon at the clinic agreed to examine me, but he wanted everyone to understand that he was making no promises regarding taking me on as a patient. Once again, my hope was buoyed.

    My memories of that time are vague, but my oldest son, Dick, remembers that at the clinic, Dr. Cosgrove was rather brusque when I was first wheeled in. He performed his examination, looked at the charts and test results, and then said that he wouldn't make any decisions about taking my case until after he examined me again in the morning. The doctor, who has since become a friend, admitted later that he really didn't expect me to live through the night. The fact that I did was an indication to him that I had a chance, albeit slight, of surviving surgery.

    After making sure that we all understood the risks, he agreed to perform bypass surgery. It was a long procedure, involving three bypasses, and Dr. Cosgrove reported that my heart muscle was severely damaged. My doctors felt confident, however, that my condition would be more stable than it was before the surgery. In hospital-speak, I was in "guarded" condition.

    Though weak, I was able to return home in time to celebrate Christmas with my family. The joy was short-lived, however, because I soon developed a staph infection in my chest. In the following weeks, the doctors opened up my chest three more times in their fight to clear up the infection, which had eaten into my ribs, sternum, and the muscle tissue surrounding the incision. I was a mess. Because so much tissue was lost, Dr. Moore, a plastic surgeon, had to cut my pectoral muscles, reposition them, and rebuild my chest in order to close the incision. It wasn't until much later, after I had regained some strength, that I learned I'd nearly died from the infection.

    By this time, I'd had several close encounters with death. I don't remember those days very well, but I do know that I was prepared to die. When you're heading for major surgery or facing a life-threatening situation, you can't avoid wondering if your time is up. That's when you decide whether you're right with God or not. Whether you are ready to step into eternity. I knew I was because I had committed my life to Jesus Christ. While my hope for a healthy existence wavered, my hope in God and his gift of eternal life remained steady.

    Life does not stand still for any of us. It is full of changes, large and small. Certainly death is the ultimate and final change; each of us will face it at some time. I'd always thought I was ready, that my faith was strong, but you never really know until you're faced with the immediate prospect of your own death. And in my case there was much more to endure, a greater challenge than I could ever imagine, when I underwent a heart transplant—and survived.

    For me, whatever the wind blows my way, hope is constant. I love to sail. When you're out on the water, the wind blows a lot of unsettling conditions your way. So does life. And those unsettling conditions—those changes in our circumstances—can break us or make us. It's not how we handle the good days that determines how well we do in life. It's how we handle the bad days.

    It is hope in God that lights my way along life's path and shines a comforting glow on death's door. That is why I always trust in the Lord and hope for the best.