Yesterday when I was at the hospital with my husband’s surgery, I experienced a lot of Deja Vu. Not the pleasant kind either.
One particular hard moment was that the police officer that delivered the news that Dan was dead was there. I didn’t know the reason he was there, but by the end of the day I knew.
I paced the halls quite a bit and it seemed every time that I turned a corner, he was there. I would avert my eyes and scurry past. Surely he didn’t remember me, but I didn’t want to get close.
The night I had met him was; as you can imagine; not the best time. Yet, he was so kind. Through every range of emotion I let out, he was compassionate. Bringing me drinks and squeezing my shoulders letting me know he was there.
I finally steeled my heart and approached him. I had never forgot him and I just had to let him know.
As I walked up to him, my heart was full of heavy dread as past emotions rushed over me. Then I looked in his eyes and saw that familiar compassion.
“I’m sure you don’t remember me, but…”
He stopped me right there and said he did as he reached out to hug me.
I boo-hooed on his shoulder for the second time in my life. I told him everything in my heart and among the hiccups he understood me.
Twenty minutes later I walked back to my husband’s room to wait for him to return from recovery. I now I understood why that police officer was there that day. I still don’t know what brought him there, but I know who made sure that we were both there yesterday for our paths to cross. The burden was lifted off my shoulders a little more and a sense of healing entered.
A moment instrumented by God to prove He is the ultimate healer. In a hospital surrounded by people who were seeking treatment, I was there only for my husband’s surgery; yet I walked away healed unexpectedly.
and frankly….that was the medicine I needed.
Categories: Diary entry June