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More Thoughts on Recovery

I went to the doctor yesterday for a follow-up to my surgery. My doctor walked into the exam room, shook my hand and sat down and scrutinized me. His gaze held mine and I finally asked, "Are you just going to stare at me?" He smiled and said, "Yes, for a while. Is that alright?" After a time he said, "Wow, you really look good." To which I responded, "I feel really good. " Sheepishly I told him, "I probably look much better than the first time you saw me." We exchanged smiles for a moment then he got up and started his exam. He said something that made my head spin, "You were a dead woman on that table in the ER."

As I lay on the exam table I was lost for anything meaningful to say. I think I managed something close to, "I am very appreciative and glad to be alive." How lame is that? Of course, that's not what I really wanted to say. What I really wanted to tell him was that I believe in the absolute sovereignty of God and that not an atom moves unless He bids it. I wanted to go back to where we had our eyes locked and I could see his face so I could tell him that I was grateful that the Sovereign God of the Universe had seen fit to educate and prepare him to be the tool He would choose to use to save my life. I wanted to encourage him by remarking about what job satisfaction he must feel seeing folks like me before and after surgery. Certainly a surgeon can be humble and still marvel at that!

I wanted to point out that God had seen fit to bless us both, him the positive outcome of the surgery he performed and me with a second chance at life. And even though God has ordained the number of breaths I will take and neither of us can change that number, for reasons we may never know, God had prepared him for such a time as this- when my need of his skills would be so great.

I wanted to tell him that whatever sacrifices he had made in order to become a surgeon, however many sleepless nights he spent or years of schooling, that he had been used by God to save my life and no doubt the lives of others and how much that really means to me and those who love me. I wanted to tell this kind man that even if I had died, he had been used by a good and merciful God. I wanted to say so much, but I didn't. The words got stuck behind a fictitious sense of decorum and propriety. . . some imaginary boundary that keeps us from sharing ourselves from the depths of our souls. I am hoping to put pen to paper and write to him and fear that whatever words I sprinkle out onto the paper will have precious little resemblance to what I am trying to impart.

Proverbs 16:24 Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.

Proverbs 25:11 {Like} apples of gold in settings of silver is a word spoken in right circumstances.


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