The Velvet Hammer of Uncertainty; A Violent Hope, and Imaginary Theology

Blackness reaches its long arms toward me, as the sun slips behind the mountains.  Reaching me, it wraps it's cloak around me and attempts to smoother me with the velvet hammer of uncertainty.  Arriving at the hospital, I am very aware that I am entering in a place with many uncontrollable variables.  This is a place where physical life and death are daily occurrences.  It is a place where pain precedes healing, and loss often leads to scars. 

Reluctantly, I shuffle towards the receptionist, like a child being sent to the principal's office, I'm not sure what the outcome of this current visit will be. Not being a stranger to this facility, all my

electronics automatically find their signals; security guards give me the head yank in recognition; and in an instant, I am swept back into the inner belly of the emergency room.  

There is an odd sense of relief that washes over me.  I am no longer in charge.  I have come to a place where the only thing I have to offer is a violent, relentless hope and trust in those that, once again, are holding the life of someone that my heartstrings are woven around.  

My imaginary theology surfaces and  tells me that elaborate prayers are best.  It screams that He will hear me best if I use eloquent words.  It tries to persuade me to plead my case.  

Attempting to believe this pseudo theology, I reach for words....but there are none. Minutes slide by, like a slug moving from one rock to another, leaving a trails of slime.  My words are pointless, and fake. They leave an offending odor. I give up and simply whisper, "Help".  Nothing else.  "Help".

If you think an ER waiting room is a comfortable place to spend the night, you are six shades of wrong.  Fear has reached it's unwelcome tentacles up my throat and taken hold of my heart.  Like an octopus turning it's prey around in anticipation of

a delicious meal, fear is preparing to consume me. Hot salty tears spill over and silently slide down my checks.  Glancing around, no kleenex is available.  Exhaustion is consuming my physical body.  I perch on my solid wooden chair and wonder if any of the rest of these people in the waiting room are standing on the precipice of life and death with a loved one.  If so, how many times have they stood here?  I have stood here too many times to count with different family members. 

Suddenly, a nurse slides onto a chair next to me. Handing me several extra soft tissues from her

pocket, she says nothing.   Moments slip by. Offers of water and nourishment are made.  This angel is a familiar nurse who is on her "lunch" break at 2:30 am and has chosen to "be" with me. Departing, I find the strength to push the words, "thank you" out from between my lips.  It is a "thank you" both to the nurse and my Creator who heard my plea for "Help"! 

It is now 6:00 am.  Tonight time has stood still in the ER, but for the rest of people in the place I reside on this planet, sleep was their companion and they are awakening ready for a new day. Time has not stood still for them.  

Hospitals are places where time is irrelevant for those inside the walls.  It is like another dimension and ONLY those that are inside are aware that all else is striped away and only physical life and death remain.  Often times, in order to be able to continue living, sacrifices and loss must be accepted.  Scars are the reminders of the loss and that the gift of this physical life has been extended. Why do I keep forgetting all of this AND that life is temporary at best? 

Shuffling into the house, the safety of my bed beckons to me.  I crawl into the welcoming layers of my private nest and allow my lids to slid shut. My eyes are closed, and I am wrapped in His presence.  However, unfortunately, someone forgot to tell my mind that it was done and the crisis was over.  So....my mind proceeds and is turning over the similarities between hospitals and churches (the body of Christ). Both deal with life and death.  Both should be safe havens for those who are in need.  Both should be equipped with staff that are willing and trained to assist the sick and injured.  Both are places where pain precedes healing and surrender must occur in order to live.  Both are places where those visiting often have a high level of uncertainty, fear, and exhaustion.  Maybe just like the "Silent Angel" that sat with me, we as the body of Christ, need to slid in next to someone in need and hand them a tissue?

Until We Chat Again,

The Plank-Eyed Girl

Ninety Six Hours

I pause momentarily and suck in the freshness of the moment.  Ninety six hours of sterileness, starkness, and strangers.  Ninety six hours of doubt and unknowing.  Ninety six hours wondering what our life will be like.  Ninety six hours of my beloved's life hanging by a few thick threads. These are the things that my last ninety six hours has held.  

Drinking in the warmth of the sun on this beautiful Fall day, I stand in a untamed heap of gently surrendered tree attire.  The peels of color slowly losing their vibrancy as they silently wither away.  Jack twists and swirls around my legs, making his way up my body until I silently shiver.  Usually I hate shivering, but today I embrace the gift of feeling alive.  In these moments, I am grateful for the gift of breath and the knowledge that my beloved will soon be re-joining me on this adventure called life.  

The realization that each breath is a gift and each day is intended to be lived to the fullest with my Creator quietly twirls through my head. My Creator is beckoning me to take His hand and dance with Him in the quietness of these moments.  To allow myself to be taken with the fragility of these moments I have experienced.  To understand that I am just passing through and each day is a gift from Him to be offered back to Him for His use.  To comprehend that nothing I have here has eternal value other than my relationship with Him.  His ever-probing eyes searching mine for acknow-ledgement of this lesson. 

I will to remember these moments. When I wake up tomorrow, I will replay these moments.  When I wake up in a week, I will replay these moments. When I wake up in ten years, I will replay these moments.  When I wake up on my last day on this planet, I will replay these moments. May the sweetness of these moments be etched solidly on my heart with indelible ink.  May this Plank-Eyed girl never forget that My Creator reached in to today and altered my path and gave me my Beloved back.

Until we Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl

Medicinal Pole Dancing

It stands there with life-giving fluids attached to "it" and "it" attached to my beloved.  I am grateful for "it".  However last night, after several times of unplugging "it" from the wall and allowing my beloved to use the facility or take a walk, I realized that all his tubing was twisted and entangled around the pole.  This required  my beloved learning some "new" moves.  Thus, was born the "Medicinal Pole Dance".  I wish you could have seen it.  Talk about making you laugh until you are gasping for air.  Watching my beloved, in a hospital gown, trying to untangle himself was hilarious.  We were both undone with fits of laughter to the point that the nurse had to come by to make sure we were okay.

Evidently she thought that we had had enough fun, so she brought me the medical "bathing towelettes".  Now if you have never had the pleasure of using these, you are truly missing out. So, with this new exciting opportunity in front of me, I dove in with unnecessary fervor.  I proceeded to attempt to open the first packet (picture a rectangular, adult-proof package of baby wipes).  It took some maneuvering, but I eventually won and was able to retrieve what I believed was the "wipe".  As I took this blue, quite porous, warm sponge-like rectangle, I proceeded to wipe the first leg.  Well, let's just say that it did not go well.  My beloved started to complain about the roughness of it in a rather teasing manner. I just figured it was designed for a little  exfoliation of the skin before surgery.  So, as I was scrubbing away on his leg, the nurse looked in.  I wish you could've seen the look on her face. It was truly priceless.  She pointed out that I should look further in the package.  So, with a snarky sigh, I used my catlike glance to peek in.  Well,  what did I see, but a SOFT, pliable, warm, thick, wet wipe.  We started laughing so hard that once again, the nurse stuck her head in.  Yikes!  I am obviously NOT the person you want to tend to you when you are sick OR...maybe I am?

Tonight, I am grateful for the shared laughter. Tonight, as I journey home, alone into the foggy, dark night, the sound of his deep laughter will reside in my heart, I will carry it to our bedroom, where I will allow it to play on auto loop until fall asleep.  Tonight, I will thank my God for the gift of these indelible moments.

Yes, God is good ALL the time to this Plank-
Eyed girl.

Blessings!
~The Plank-Eyed Girl