Saturday, April 4, 2015


I was sitting in the hospital bed, waiting for my initial surgery to take place, when he walked into the room. With his leather jacket, close-fitting jeans, boots, and curly hair a little on the wild side, I almost expected to see a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm; he looked fresh off a ride. Certain he was looking for somebody else and had simply wandered into the wrong room, I was about to set him straight when he held out his hand, introduced himself and said he'd be doing my surgery later in the day!

This was my doctor? I wonder if the surprise showed on my face. He pulled a chair up close to the bed and settled in for a chat. Kindness and concern marked his conversation; soon we were talking like old friends. When his technical medical explanations went over my head, he got up and drew explanatory pictures on the white board on the wall. Once business was done, we turned to the subject of where we were from. Upon discovering that we'd each lived in California and Ohio, we discussed the relative merits of each state, from endless sunshine to plenty of personal space. The latter was what was important to him; he liked room to move around and talked with joy about his love for his farm. Amazed that he had spent so much time with me, by the time he rose and said goodbye I was confident my elbow was in good hands.

In the days, weeks and now months since that initial conversation and surgery, that initial assessment has proven to be true. We meet as friends and team members striving to reach a certain goal, discussing our progress and treatment options whenever things don't seem to be going according to plan. His care always evident, my confidence in his abilities and advice has only grown. I always leave with any worry gone and the feeling that he has my situation under complete control.

Obviously my relationship with the good doctor reminds me of the one I have with the Great Physician. From the day we were first formally introduced His kindness and care have drawn me ever closer to Him and I have learned to place my trust and my life in His complete control. I think He takes special delight in showing up in situations where I'm not expecting to find Him, disguising His identity, until after the fact some little clue leads me to say in wonder, “That was You , God?!” I can almost see Him throw back His head and laugh, perhaps at my amazement that after all this time together there is still so much about Him that I simply don't know. Worry and fear never tarry in His presence, faith in His ability to handle any situation only grows in the time we spend together.

Funny that our conversations likewise often turn to the subject of Home. He's lived in my world, and I will eventually live in His, but the connections between the two are growing every day. From His words on the subject in His Book to the descriptions He's whispered in my ears He is painting a picture of the place that hangs in my heart as prominently as the photo of my elbow surgeon's farm hangs in his office. Both keep our thoughts focused and our feet traveling in the right direction, so that at the end of the day we'll both find ourselves where our hearts long to be.

"...I am the LORD that healeth thee."
(Exodus 15:26 KJV)

1 comment:

  1. You're doing a great job with the theme; loving your stories! Keep it up!


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