A Return to Life {Part 2}

If you missed the first part of this post, you can find it here.

My sister Pam and I drove from the Surgeon’s office to the hospital to complete my admissions forms.  On the drive, fear was having his way with me. Pam knew better than to try to stop him; she was very familiar with fear.  He had tormented her two years earlier.


Are you one of those people who enjoys the casual chat with a stranger?  Not me.  My husband, he will talk to anyone.  By the end of a long or short flight, he will have planned our next vacation with complete strangers.  Not me.  When waiting for appointments or at the airport, I prefer to bury my head in a book or magazine and not chat.  And today, of all days, I certainly didn’t want to chat.  So, when the girl decided to sit right next to me in the waiting room, when there was a whole room of empty chairs, I was not pleased.  And then, when  this girl, the female version of John Candy in “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles” started to cheerfully start up a conversation, I was really not happy.  Not now!

Her first question for me was, “Did you break your elbow”.  Cue the heavy sigh and grunt from me.  “Yes”, is all I harshly groaned. “Who is your Dr.?”,  Miss Cheerful 2013 wanted to know.  “Dr. Mighell”, I resented having to say. “Oh Wow, she says, “He was my surgeon too”.  My head is still lowered and I notice a very large pair of shoes walking towards me.  She went on to tell me how she had fallen with a small child at home and had also shattered her elbow.  Her joyful voice described how wonderful her/our surgeon had been and how fortunate I was that he would be working on me.  I lifted my eyes, looked at her sweet face, and asked her if she would show me what she could do with her arm.  In a very animated, overly exaggerated manner, she proudly showed off the movement of her hand and elbow.

It was a broken halleluiah moment.

The tears of relief poured from me like a stopped up faucet that had been repaired.  I was turning to her and turning to my sister; they were smiling and crying with me.  “See”, Pam said, “you are going to be fine”.  It was the first words of reassurance that she had offered.  Wisely, she knew that there would be a time for words.  A time when I would be comforted and prepared for the healing to begin.

My relief was NOT delivered to me because I knew that my arm would be good as new.  I didn’t know.  What I did know and was reminded of by the precious girl who was sent to sit next to me was that I am His.  I am HIS!  Nothing that mattered would ever be taken from me.  In fact, take my hand Lord.  Take it all!  You lead me and I will follow; no matter the cost.  That precious reminder of my faith and seeing Christ’s Love at work in my life is a moment that I will remember always.  Had I never slipped on that porch, this moment, this painfully precious life affirming moment, would have never been mine.

Just before I was called back to the admissions cubicle, I looked to that sweet child of Christ, and said, “are you an angel?”  I really thought she was.  She said, “No, I just knew that you needed someone to talk to today, so I came to sit beside you”.  It grieves me that I allowed fear to overwhelm me; my frailty and despair shames me.  Thank God, fear was removed from the building that day. My brokenness had sidelined my Faith, and my Faith was renewed. It still gives me chills and boundless gratitude for my Savior.  His love sent her and He rescued me!

On the scale of tragedies and struggles, my injury, surgery and rehab, ranks very low.  I have people in my life who have lost limbs and loved ones; they aren’t getting them back.   Humanity is hurting and everyone is battling something.  There is only one way to conquer fear and his band of thieves.  It is through faith in the life giving power and the love of Jesus.

A few weeks ago, I couldn’t resist the urge to pick up a pen and draw.



My hand was still not good.  For example, I couldn’t use it to eat or open doors or wash my hair.  So you can imagine my astonishment when I could use it to draw.



Excitedly, I grabbed watercolor paper and paint, and created art.  My God wants me to make art.  Not necessarily with pen, ink, pencil, or paints.  He wants me to make art by being present in my life, loving my life and the people in it, and showing others His glory.  That is art.
  
One more thing.  As we were sitting in the admissions cubby, the generous messenger gave me a post it note that she had written with a scripture chosen for me.