A seemingly healthy man, in his thirties, needs an emergency appendectomy. When the surgeon goes in, he sees that this healthy man’s appendix is perforated. This won’t be a simple procedure, and he won’t be “closed up” after the surgery. The man will wake up with an open wound draining “poison” out of his body. His white blood count will be incredibly high and, in spite of significant medication, he’ll be in excruciating pain. He’ll end up spending most of a week in a hospital bed, and going home needing significant “down time” to recover. His reality—relationships, career, travel plans—will all be altered.
Life, as he knew it, will be put on hold.
His fiancée will relive the panicked six hours she spent getting him to the hospital. Those who love them will remember sitting with the woman, for hours, as the surgeon saved his life.
One day, this event will be simply another “marker” in the journey. The couple will marry before the year is out. Their family and friends will dance with them. Life will go on, but an awareness of the fragility of it—of never truly knowing what’s around the corner will change everyone—at least for now.
We have these moments that are painful and frightening and challenging—moments where the human body, and sometimes the spirit, is broken.
We have these moments where we exhale knowing that we will make it through, that the light shining will take us through the tunnel.
And we have these moments when life is gift-wrapped in the most beautiful package imaginable.
Tears of joy and relief pitted against tears of anger and pain—like a pendulum swinging back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
Thank you, God, for a happy ending to this story. Thank you, God, for another day. And so, the intentional journey continues.