January 22, 2011 began as a great day. I hosted a party for my daughter, spent time with family, and went for a long run. An hour after my run I felt a familiar pain, one that had haunted me over the years without clear cause. I went through the regular motions of response but it only grew worse. All night I paced, vomited, clutched my abdomen. By Sunday morning my skin was yellow. I barely remember the drive to the hospital or my time in the ER. I do, however, have strong memories of my first night in the ICU – loneliness, fear, intense pain, an ache for my family…
Those initial days were characterized by pain and silence. There were tubes everywhere. I was burning up. Liters of fluid were drained from my abdomen. Oxygen was required. I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink and I couldn’t walk. Speaking was a struggle.
The greater questions (how did this happen? when will I see my kids?) were overshadowed by the heavy weight of each breath, each movement.
God met me in that heavy place. I began to experience peace in the midst of the pain. It was a bizarre dual relationship; I would feel overwhelming pain and longing along with deep comfort and rest.
It was as if, Psalm 91:4 sprang to life right there in that deep, dark place: “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge”
To this day I occasionally close my eyes and remember what it felt like when my only comfort and rest came nestled under His wing. As hard and awful as it was I still miss the intense comfort and connectedness I felt back then.
There are so many stories I could tell (and probably will) about the ‘hospital’. God used that experience to forever change my life and the course for my family. You’ll find that I often refer to the nurturing aspect of God’s character. As in this story, his care for me was incredibly personal, like a mother caring for her child (Isaiah 66:13).
Laura