Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Lost and Found

Yesterday was a pretty tough day. Someone very close to me had an operation, and I had not slept the night before, cried out of exhaustion, fear, and stress the whole night (even though it was a relatively safe operation, the whole situation and the buildup to it was still very unnerving) and walking into the hospital to go to wait for the person to get out of the operation room was like being hit with a wall of opression. I had brought a few bright 'Get Well Soon' balloons, my quilt, a photo, and half a loaf of homemade raisin cinnamon bread to make the room just a little brighter, and more homey.

Those rooms are ridiculously depressive. Same color, harsh lighting, and bare of any sort of decoration, don't they understand that your surroundings have an impact on your will to get better?

In any case, I went to brighten the room just a bit, and then waited outside with other people, but I excused myself with every intention to just grab a quick coffee and head right back upstairs. The problem was, on the way down, I just couldn't help myself and my eyes started to tear up and I just needed a few moments to isolate myself, and I headed straight to the first private place I could find, which ended up being the hospital chapel. This was a tiny room, with about six chairs, and soft music playing with a small cart full of books. But as soon as you entered, there was an open Bible underneath a small statue of Jesus with his arms upraised and a very peaceful look on his face. I sat on a chair and released all my built-up tension for a few seconds, then I got up and walked over to the Bible and just stared at the statue. To be honest, it had been a long time since I had prayed, and it just felt awkward, I didnt know the words to use, and how to start. So I just looked, and then flipped the Bible to a random page, and started to read. I had opened up the Psalm 23.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness For His name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You have anointed my head with oil; My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life, And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
What are the odds of my opening this book of hundreds of pages to this one passage, which seemed to be the thing that I needed to read the most? I read it maybe four or five times, just that passage. It filled me with peace, simply put. When I left the chapel and walked back upstairs, I repeated the first line over to myself 'Le Seigneur est mon berger, je ne manque de rien'. I felt stronger, better. I felt prepared to go see the person come out of the operation room, and face all of this in a positive way. Isnt it funny, how the one thing I had refused to believe in and vigorously denied was the one thing to give me comfort in a time of weakness?

Of course, when I saw the person come out, I still started bawling out of relief that the operation was over and there had been no complication, but I don't see how it could have been any other way!

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