Listen - and then let Him do the rest.

When I wrote my last post on Monday night, I had no idea that 5 hours later I would be on a gurney in the ER, writhing in pain that had begun to bother me early Monday afternoon. How awesome God works - how He just tells you what you need to know and WHEN you need to know it. The pain was with me when I went to bed, and I had already decided that if it was still with me in the morning, I would call in sick and get myself to the Dr. The symptoms had been bothering me for a few weeks but like most people would, I chalked it up to stress.
I was able to sleep about an hour and a half Monday night but, when I woke up at 2 am - less than three hours after I went to bed, I asked Ron to take me to the hospital. After a series of tests and a CT scan, a very nice Dr. told me that I needed to be admitted - and while I won't go into detail, let me just say that all the surgeries and the c section I had over the years had left waaaay too much scar tissue and it very nicely decided to take over my small intestine and give me some terrific (NOT!!) complications. I am so seldom ill though, that I knew the pain was more than just a tummy ache. So, I had recognized the need to go to the hospital.
Thankfully, I was able to dodge surgery this time but it will happen again, and likely again. This was a most inconvenient time to be ill - haven't I been going on about the busy-ness of Christmas? And yet, as I laid in the hospital bed for four days, listening to the sounds of the hospital and being poked and pricked and having all sorts of tubes and things as company, the things of Christmas did not matter. The cookies that didn't get baked, the cards that didn't get sent, the last minute "stuff" just didn't matter. What matters most? Yet again, and as always, the Christ child. The One who was born so long ago to bring us everlasting life. And the One who brings us peace. It's not an easy thing to find peace in the sights and sounds of a hospital - unless that Peace has been your friend for a long. long time. There were many patients there who were far more ill than I - who don't have a prayer of being home for Christmas. Who may not be able to return home ever. On Wednesday, the staff had to move me from one room to another because they had brought a lady in who was what they called " a screamer." She was 87, in great misery and not able to be coherent or quiet. As I lay there listening to her moans, and to the sometimes rather rude comments to her by the staff (they thought she couldn't understand them), it didn't really matter whether I was moved or not - the sadness was in the situation this lady was in. From my new room that night - unable to sleep - the cries of that lady could be heard all around the floor. As well as far into the evening last night and into this morning. I pray that she once knew that Peace in her life - and that she will feel it again.
And when I left that place of healing today, I knew that the real healing had been done by God. The excellent medical staff were the vessel, He had done the healing.
Christians aren't supposed to be fearful - but He lets us use that fear for good sometimes in the middle of the night when you know something is wrong. It's then that He gives us the nudge to do what should be done~ and then He does the rest.
May He bless you.
Sue