Once again my worst fears have not been realized. The long deliberated, long awaited, long dreaded surgery is history. I did not die from the anesthesia. I am not blind. I am not even in pain. The sun is shining and I am home with orders to put in antibiotic eye drops 3x a day and not to do anything strenuous. That’s it. Meanwhile I wait for my brain to adjust to this new set of eyes and this new set of glasses that no longer make adjustments for faulty eye muscles. I am alive and well. My Shepherd has carried me through my doubts and fears so tenderly. I am grateful.
He carries me where I cannot go alone. I am not strong enough, or brave enough, or resolute of mind enough to quell anxiety. But when my fears threaten to engulf me He gives me peace and confidence… “Before the throne of God above, I have a strong and perfect peace…a great high priest whose name is love who ever lives and pleads for me. My name is graven on His hands. My name is written on his heart. I know that while in Heaven He stands, no tongue can bid me thence me depart.” These words streamed through my mind as I lay all decked out in hospital gown, tucked in under a heated blanket, IV hooked up, waiting for my turn in the Operating Room. The peace that had eluded me the previous day now came to sit with me and all was well.
Did everything go without a hitch? Did I simply wake, rise and go home seeing clearly? Not exactly. I was one of the last out of the outpatient ward. I don’t recover well from anaesthesia. My eyes were loathe to adjust to this new normal, making me unsteady on my feet. But once I’d committed to go through with surgery, come what may, and rested my case with the One who knows me, the rest was just a matter of time…and enduring nausea, and needles, and waiting. But there was peace.
As the O.R. nurse had wheeled me through the doors of the Operating Room, she introduced herself and her partner assuring me, “We’ll take care of you.” It was a comforting gesture but I smiled to myself reassured simultaneously that ultimately I am being taken care of by stronger Hands. So I scooted onto the table, put my head on the ‘donut’, and took a few slow breaths of oxygen. A flutter of sensation in my head, a wrinkled brow, and I was out, out of control but in Good Hands. Is there a safer place to be?
I would live all of life this way: at peace, yielded completely to the Hands of the One who works all things for His good purposes, trusting, dead to my own flawed nature, alive to His Spirit, breathing with the breath He supplies, living ever for His glory.
P.S. If you were among those who knew and prayed while this was going on, I thank you. God heard.
I love the LORD, because he has heard my voice and my pleas for mercy….Gracious is the LORD, and righteous; our God is merciful….Return, O my soul, to your rest; for the LORD has dealt bountifully with you. Ps.116:1,5,7
Oh, magnify the LORD with me, and let us exalt His name together!
I sought the LORD, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears. Ps.34:3,4