Here’s a
question, “How do you feel about going to the hospital for surgery or a
diagnostic procedure?”
Not
something you look forward to, right?
You know that all you can anticipate is a nasty prep, and a skipped meal,
followed by pokes and prods and sticks with possibly pain to follow. On top of that, you might endure anxiety over
a negative outcome.
Last week I had
a colonoscopy scheduled. If you’ve had
one, you know the prep is the worst part.
This occasion didn’t disappoint. It
was the worst part!
We arrived
at the hospital at the usual time, two hours too early. I was poked and prodded and prepped for the
procedure, and then knew I’d have to wait my turn. Jim was with me, and since I’d had little
sleep, I suggested he go to the cafeteria so that I could just rest and maybe
nap. I hate to have him just staring at
me while I try to nap.
I don’t like
anything about hospital visits, EXCEPT the warm blankets. Hospital thermostats are set somewhere below
zero! Without those blankets, they’d
have to thaw us out before they could work on us! But once the nurse arrives with the blanket
and tucks it around me, I feel as if I’m in a cocoon, warm and comforted. It is
so natural to just close my eyes and rest my body.
Something
else happens to me when I’m in a hospital that comforts me even more than a
warm blanket. The hospital room becomes
a spiritual sanctuary. I find myself
talking to the Lord Jesus and enjoying the wonderful comfort of His presence,
so near and dear to me.
He imparts
to my heart and soul His “peace that passes understanding”. He reminds me that my life has always, and ever,
been in His hands. He reiterates His promise never to leave me or forsake me,
even when I’m alone in a hospital room and under anesthesia for a procedure. His
nearness is incredibly tangible, settling on me, putting my mind at rest, enabling
me to trust in His sovereignty over my life.
I would
never say that because of His comfort, I look forward to hospital procedures,
but when they come, I do look forward to the experience of His presence with
me. His presence transforms my hospital visit into a sanctuary of rest and
peace that I would never want to miss.
