I write beside my wife who is recovering from a “successful” surgery. The operation went smoothly with no biological complications. Her pain is great now, but we pray it’s worth it in the long run.
I will confess, however, this has proven much more difficult for me than expected. There is a tidal wave of feelings, questions, speculations and doubts that leave me awash in creatureliness. Frankly, I feel like mourning. I didn’t realize how much hope is wrapped up in potential. I’ve never feared being human this much before.
I fear resentment. Will today always lurk stealthily in the back of my mind? Has “what if” been forever seared into my soul? Will I hide the “hysterectomy card” in my sleeve to trump my failures?
I fear entitlement. Will I now expect God to make good on his end of this deal? Will I assume that because we did this in faith God now owes us one . . . or a hundred? Was I deceived by self-righteousness cloaked in false humility?
I fear selfishness. Will I consider this mainly Amy’s problem? Will I hurt with her or hurt for her? Will I keep her in my unflinching arms or at arm’s length? Will I derive some sick satisfaction from hearing Amy say, “I’m sorry.”
I’m thankful God comes after his sheep. Why so downcast, O my soul? Put your hope in God.