Really. The story I am about to tell you is one of those things that first world people "endure".
But I love and try to serve, and far more importantly, am valued and loved by a God who cares about my circumstances. My little, everyday, fairly ordinary circumstances, and for that I will be grateful for all of eternity. When He knows that I really, really need my Daddy, He shows up in utter and absolute perfection, leaving me bewildered, breathless, and immensely humbled; starstruck at the enormous love He pours over me.
I think of all the times that my children run to me with some "problem" that is so very big to them, and an annoyance to me, and they generally know exactly what I think of it. I am not a great sympathizer of non-logical things. I am a work in progress.
Not so my Jesus. He is infinitely patient with me. So, so patient, and good, and kind.
This past July 4th we gorged ourselves at a barbeque fit for a king, prepared by friends, and my oldest shoveled it in. Going back for more and more, he was finally satisfied, and we left. The next morning he was sick and I suspected food poisoning. He was a lot of what it said he should be on WebMD, and since that makes it so, I figured that was the problem. Except no one else was sick. A quick inventory of ingestibles revealed that he had not eaten anything special, so I thought perhaps he picked up a virus.
I was busy that day helping a dear friend with something that really was a very important thing. As I helped her my son sat in the waiting room and quickly developed a fever.
I got him home and I began to suspect. . . . appendicitis. I didn't know why. I just did. So I called the doctor. His doctor wasn't there, so I got the On Call One. I don't like the On Call One. At all. I have my reasons.
I talked to the nurse, who left a message for the On Call One, who was supposed to contact me, "soon".
Nearly three hours later, I called back.
My biggest fear when moving from my comfort zone in the Midwest to the Pacific Northwest in a tiny town on the coast was not tsunami's, wildfires, or endless rain.
My biggest fear was that one of my very bestest favorite beloveds would get emergency ill, and I would be stranded with a very small hospital and no trauma center, unless you want to take a helicopter far, far away.
No one knew this that I know of. But that's what it was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I call On Call Guy. Something has happened in the past three hours. We have other things going on.
I am CONVINCED it is appendicitis.
I just knew.
And I know it needs to come OUT.
As in, I knew like I knew when I was in labor with my kids. It is an unshakable knowledge. And I am fooling around with On Call Guy, the gatekeeper for my healthcare.
On Call Guy finally relays, "It is probably a virus. He will be OK."
"Ok, thanks", I placate. I am done, and we are going to the E.R.
Ah, the E.R. The E.R. has a reputation here for, shall I say, "extremely long wait times and questionable judgement."
My fear is becoming reality.
Out of respect, I call the hubby. "Well, how do you 'know'? Really?? I mean, what if you run clear over there, and it is nothing?" I feel like I am going to jump out of my skin. But I say, clearly and somewhat definitively, "OK. I will wait for you to get here. Then you can see what you think." He would be home in about 40 minutes.
In the meantime, I am pacing my house. I am restless and irritated and unable to relax, so tightly wound and on edge.
And then it hits me: this-----this wildcat inside me---- is a GIFT. I'm not supposed to relax because if I relax, this will get missed. This is my job, to get this kid to the hospital and make sure this thing gets OUT. And that is OK.
This realization makes things so much better. Hubby comes home, assesses (he is in health care) and too, is convinced. So I am off.
The long E.R. wait? Less than 3 minutes.
First doctor I see? "The appendix needs to come out."
One time this child was under anesthesia. He had to be given medicine to bring his heart rate up. I was told then to make sure I told every surgeon ever to be very careful.
He got the best surgeon.
No problems with anesthesia.
From check in until the last stitch was a grand total of something like 6 hours. In less than 18 hours we were home.
And the whole time, I KNEW it had to come out.
But more than that, I KNEW that God was right there. Oh, the peace! Never was a mama so peaceful, so serene when they told me that they would take him to surgery and have it out! I am less peaceful at the fabric counter at Jo-Ann's! I was so thankful, and just, so so peaceful.
God taught me that day: in the eye of your storm, even if it is not a big one, I love you enough to be right there with you, guiding you, loving you, comforting you, caring for you.
All I need to do is listen.
To trust and obey my sweet Lord.
My faith isn't in the good healthcare we received, but I am so thankful for it.
My faith is in the One whose palm I rest in, whether that is here or there.
He knows your secret storm, and He will put you right there so that you can learn of Him and experience His goodness.
Ah, there is a Friend that sticketh closer than a brother, and that Friend is Jesus.
My prayer is that you know His peace.
Love to you all-----