The Worst Night
The pain was excruciating.
She had been sleeping soundly in her bed, when a sudden, sharp pain in her belly woke her at 3:00am. She half sat up clutching her stomach, then laid back down again. She tried rolling over to alleviate it, but it didn’t work.
After a minute or two, the pain seemed to subside a little, then, like a wave rushing back to shore, it came again. She attempted to get out of bed and get to the bathroom, but she felt so nauseous, she couldn’t walk and ended up crawling on her hands and knees across the floor.
“What is happening to me?!!” she thought.
Finally, the wave of pain receded and she sat on the floor of her bedroom and leaned against the wall…frantic, not knowing what to do.
She lived alone. This was the middle of the night. Does she call for an ambulance? What if they come and it’s nothing? Thoughts ran rampant through her head when right about then another wave of agony hit and doubled her over. As it slowly began to fade she happened to glance at her reflection in the full-length closet mirror. What she saw scared her to death. She was white as a sheet. It was then that she decided to call 911.
They came. Of course, by then, the pain had subsided again, but they asked a lot of questions, put her on a gurney, and took her on a ride to the hospital. Before they left her apartment she managed to make a couple of phone calls. The sun had risen by now, so she called her work and explained everything. Her second call was to her parents out of state who would soon be on their way.
After all the poking, testing and prodding at the hospital, her diagnosis was obvious.
Appendicitis. They took her into emergency surgery and she spent the night in the hospital.
It was the worst night of her life.
Her parents had gotten to the hospital by the time she had gotten out of surgery and were staying at her apartment. They came the following day and when she was released, brought her back home. Her dad had to get back, but her mom stayed with her to help take care of her while she recuperated.
She was used to being on her own…fending for herself. She had done it for years. She was used to being healthy…able to lift things, walk with ease. Drive. She was used to being strong.
Now she wasn’t. She slept a lot. She wasn’t allowed to lift anything over 10 pounds. If she walked for any length of time, it exhausted her. Her mother drove her to places.
She took her health for granted.
She didn’t know what she had until it was gone.
“Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving him thanks. How he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus answered, ‘Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?’ And he said to him, ‘Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well.’”
Luke 17:15-19
That was me. Up there in the story.
And so, I learned to be grateful.
Because it could have been worse.
I could have not woken up. I could have passed out on the floor. No one would have known until hours later when I didn’t show up for work.
God used this to open my eyes to all the things I had taken for granted about my life. I was healthy. I had a home. I had a job with a boss and coworkers who looked out for me and had my back. I had parents who dropped everything and drove from Oklahoma to Texas to be with me.
Gratitude is the appropriate response to God’s active rule and reign over our lives. It’s a response to the amazing character of God. When we see the outcome of our active faith, our response should be worship. And that is so much more than saying, “Thank you.” It is an attitude of the heart that understands God gives and takes away and is worthy of worship in any scenario.
I am so grateful for how God engineers things in my life! How He takes care of me! The following weekend, my mom and I went to church. Words cannot describe how I worshiped that Sunday. When I think of what could have happened. When I think of how I had taken so much for granted.
I had almost forgotten.
Like the story of the ten lepers in Luke 17. Jesus himself said, “Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine?” Only one came back praising God and giving thanks.
This is what I must remember…what we must remember.
To be more like the one, and less like the nine.
Dear Father. Thank you so much for watching over me! You have everything planned out from the start. I am so grateful for your love unmatchable, grace unmovable, and mercy unending! May I always be more like the one and less like the nine. Amen.
