Read Isaiah 40:28-31 I have only told a very few about the entirely of these events, but I have been thinking about them a lot lately, as if something, or someone, has been encouraging me to share even more. Perhaps I have held the story close out of fear of embarrassment, of not being believed, of the haze of memories after all of the years, or quite simply being accused of making it all up. When the call to write these events came, I could only imagine that the hands of fate, or coincidence, or God was tapping me on the shoulder once again, saying “Don’t be selfish and keep this to yourself – it is ok to share.”
I suppose the day that changes your life should be momentous with horns and trumpets blaring, but, my day began just like any other except for an extreme amount of bodily, physical pain. Understanding what the day meant to me requires a bit of scene setting…
As a 20 year old college junior, you figure you have your life in front of you and that anything is insurmountable. Well, to be quite honest those October weeks of 1990 was about all I could handle.
It began innocently enough on a Monday, with class all day and football practice in the afternoon. But, by the end of the day, something was not quite right with my stomach. I had come down with some type of bug and I couldn’t shake it. Tuesday was the same class and practice routine. However, by Wednesday I could not even get out of bed to go to class, and did not make practice either. This was quite unusual for me, as class was something that I rarely, if ever, missed. Then to miss practice on top of it was a sign to those around me that I must really be sick. A trip to the infirmary yielded what I expected, a diagnosis of some type of flu/infection/cold and treatment of rest, liquids, etc.
I desperately tried to get back to “normal” on Thursday and Friday as that weekend was parent’s weekend at school and my family was coming to visit and watch the football game on Saturday. I was determined to be ready for the visit and the game. My body, unfortunately, had other ideas. There was no normal on those days, just an ever increasing malaise that was unshakeable. It was one of the weirdest feelings I can recall when knowing something deep inside your body was not right and not knowing how to make it so.
My parents arrived on Friday and stopped by my dorm room. My mother, a nurse, took one look at me and pronounced we were going to the doctor immediately. I somehow convinced her that I needed to be at the game the next day and once I agreed to go to the infirmary again, I convinced everyone that I was well enough to travel to the team hotel for our customary night away before Saturday’s game.
That evening was the most miserable I think I have ever been, tossing and turning, laying on the floor and even sitting in the bathtub unable to shake the constantly growing pain in my stomach and in my back. Eventually, I vomited and was relieved because I figured that was what my body had been trying to do all week. I was terrified because I didn’t feel any better, and actually felt worse. This is when I came to grips that something was seriously wrong. I made it through the rest of the night and back to my room to rest before the game – to which of course I still had intentions of going. My only concession was that I decided I would talk to the coach and tell him that I just wasn’t up to playing, but would be on the sidelines in civilian clothes. He agreed.
I managed to make it to the sidelines to cheer on the team, but found myself making several trips back to the locker room, each time getting sick. Somehow I made it to the end of the game and finally relented and agreed to head back to the infirmary to see if something could be done. Once seen, we agreed to go to St. Vincent’s Hospital emergency room right away. A battery of tests indicated that I likely had a ruptured appendix and that it had leaked into my body and created peritonitis, requiring immediate surgery. The gravity of the circumstances sunk in, as had my foolishness for allowing it to go so long prior to getting the correct medial attention. I overheard my mother and the doctors talking that if I had let it go another day, it would actually be life threatening. As it stood, I had taken a simple 45 minute operation and created a several hour ordeal.
Here comes the life changing part…As I was being wheeled to the operating room, my mother was on one side of the stretcher and my dad was on the other looking down at me with both love and worry. I can still remember my mom rubbing my left hand in the same spot over and over. So much so, that I asked her to stop because she had made that area numb.
It was at this time that I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and silently said the words that I still vividly recall, “God, I cannot do this on my own – I am leaving it in your hands. I am scared and need your help. Please let me wake up alive and please care for my family whether I do or I don’t.” At that very instance I felt a rush of wind/air and feeling of fullness enter my body that I had never felt before or since. Almost as immediately, I knew that it was the Holy Spirit filling my body with the love and protection that I had just asked for. I instantly had the most serene sense of calm that I had ever known. I was going to be ok. I looked at my mom and dad, told them so and continued on to the operating room. This entire episode lasted perhaps 30 seconds at most, but it couldn’t have been more timely or powerful.When I woke up in the recovery room, I looked over and saw my mom sitting in a chair next to me, her eyes closed. Despite the pain I was in, I started to smile, chuckle and cry all at the same time. I was alive and it was validation of the feeling that I had several hours earlier. If I hadn’t known it before, I did now – I had been saved by God through his Holy Spirit and well, I think that is worth a smile, a chuckle and some tears. My mom immediately thought something was wrong, but I told her, “I am just fine and I am going to be ok.”
That day was a watershed for me, because there were so many people who were unbelievably kind to me and my family while I was in the hospital and throughout my recovery. Very rarely in life, do you truly get a chance to know what people think of you, but I can honestly say that I was overwhelmed by the love and kindness and support that I was shown. I can only think that too was the work of the Spirit and I am forever grateful.
That life changing feeling I had on the stretcher that day in October 1990 has never left me, although I do find myself searching for it at times. I wish I could say I have not “fallen down” as a person since that day, but the reality is that I sometimes wish I were a better person and was always a shining example. However, I am ALWAYS steeled by the knowledge and conviction that God and His Spirit do exist and that on that day I was given special insight to Him and myself.
Honoring that, remembering that, and now by sharing that, I hope I stand a little taller, laugh a little louder, act a little kinder, love a little stronger and ultimately feel a little fuller – not of myself, but of the Lord, once again.
Prayer: Lord, at times we must surrender all to your will. We thank you for the people you put in our lives who overwhelm us with love and kindness. Amen.
Prayer Concern: those who need healing.
