Hospital Corridor

For the past two nights, I have had some pretty unsettling hospital dreams. With each dream, I find myself subject to the prison of a hospital bed, facing some kind of life threatening illness. Last night, I dreamed that I needed to have major surgery. During part of my dream, the doctor had already performed a portion of my surgery. He decided to sew me up and then leave me without any pain medication.

These dreams have brought me back to a time when I really was held captive in a hospital bed. Seeing doctor after doctor, enduring test after test. Nobody knew what was wrong with me . . . which was worse than any certainty I ended up having to face. There is something so unsettling about the unknown.

I eventually landed under the care of a young and gifted doctor, who thought opening me up would help solve the mystery. His discovery of how sick I really was left me with no options. Surgery was inevitable, and I was scared half out of my mind.

There was something so unforgettable about that experience. I don't think I have ever been that afraid before. It was the absolute worse pain I have ever experienced. Fatigue hit me like a monsoon. I was literally fighting to say alive. And then there was the unforgettable wedge of injustice that was put between myself and God. This whole nightmare is nothing I would choose to live through again.

Want to know something interesting though? As bad as it was, I wouldn't trade it for the world. I came out of that storm a little bit stronger, with a new appreciation for life and a more resolved faith. When I think back to the days when getting out of bed was excruciating . . . when getting from my bedroom to the kitchen seemed like a marathon . . . when crying was all I had the strength to do . . . when I remember that dreadful season, my heart is strangely warmed.

The pain is a distant memory, one that tries to torment me in the dark of night. But the lingering love and care of my Great Physician is what I remember most. He was there to wipe every tear. He gave me the courage to face what seemed insurmountable. My God carried me when I just couldn't take another step. He cried with me, cradled me and loved on me.

Sometimes I find myself crying when I think about that experience - not because of the heartbreaking encounter, but because God's presence was so real . . . I knew, that I knew, that I knew, that I was not suffering alone.

I often treasure the glow of that hospital corridor.