Be still

Sunday night, Jimmy and I got into an argument.  He is still out of town, so I went to bed mad and woke up mad.

He tried calling me several times the next morning to sort things out, but I ignored his calls because I just did not want to talk.  And I am stubborn and will do things at my own pace.

For some reason, when he called me at 8:25ish, I answered.  I don't know what made me do it because I had not yet decided to deal with our argument.

After saying a grumpy hello, I heard, "I'm getting worried.  The nurse from my sister's school called and left me a voicemail, and I cannot get in touch with her."

So, I pushed thoughts of our argument to the back of my mind - although I had every intention of getting that resolved in due time - and was in the middle of advising him to call the front office when he said he had to go because her husband was calling him.

It's amazing how quickly a family emergency can bring a squabble into perspective.  The argument no longer mattered.  All that mattered was that something was wrong with a member of my family.  

And that is when I began to pray.

When the phone rang again, Jimmy's voice came over the line in sobs.  It took me a minute to get him calmed down to find out what was going on.  

"She has had a seizure and is unconscious."

"Do you want me to come get you?"

"Let me get more information about what is going on."

"I'm going to go to work to find someone to cover for me."

When I got to work, Jimmy kept me updated on the information being funneled to him through his dad and his sister's husband.  

His sister had had an aneurysm, but everyone told him that things seemed okay and to stay put (he was two hours away).  They were transferring her to a different hospital that was better equipped to deal with this sort of thing.

My gut kept telling me, GO GET HIM! But he kept telling me to just wait and asked if I could just go up to the hospital and check on her.  

So, I wrapped up work and was heading to my car to drive to the hospital when I got yet another phone call.

"They can't stop the bleeding.  She is going in for brain surgery.  They don't think she is going to make it.  They told me to come home."  He was sobbing once more.

Now, I do not know whether you have ever been tasked with a four hour round trip drive to get someone you love to the only close family member he has because there is a distinct possibility she may not survive brain surgery.  I do not wish it on anyone.  Ever.

Panic set in, and I kept thinking, what if she dies before I can get him to her?!  What if he doesn't get to see her again or say goodbye?!

It was in this panic-fueled state that I decided that I had to do something.  I called upon everyone I could think of to pray.  And then I prayed aloud while sobbing and driving.  Begging as if I were beseeching God for the life of one of my own children.  "Please, do not take her from him.  Please."  The praying was constant.  The fear was paralyzing.  And the hurt did not ebb.

To be completely truthful, I was not just hurting for Jimmy.  I was hurting because the thought of losing this woman was incredibly painful to me as well.  She is the kind of person you just feel privileged to know.  I kept thinking, she was just sitting on my couch yesterday.  She was down in the floor playing with Vivian.  I just saw her, and she was fine.

But from all accounts, things were not hopeful.

All I could do was drive and pray.  It was during all this driving and praying and beginning to feel hopeless that I heard something very familiar.  

"Be still and know that I am God."  

It was somehow comforting.  It was a helpless feeling to know I couldn't fix any of this for anyone.  I couldn't fix the bleeding in her brain.  I couldn't fix my fiance's broken heart.  I couldn't fix the terror of her entire family and all of her friends.  So, to be reminded that God was in control was comforting.  I still did not know what His will would be, but I knew that He had an eye on things.

When I finally arrived at the hotel, Jimmy and I collapsed into each other and cried some more.

And then we received a glimmer of hope.

"Your dad just text me.  She made it through surgery."  Relief flooded me.  In my head, Thank you, God.  Thank you, God.  Thank you.  Please continue to keep her safe.

We got in the car and headed back to Dallas.  My eyes flickered over to my phone screen every few minutes.  Praying that it would not go off again.  No news was good news.

The drive was long and quiet.  We never travel in silence, but turning on the radio just did not feel right.  So, neither of us did.  We both stayed lost in our own thoughts. 

When we arrived at the ICU, I peaked in through a crack in the door, and she was lying there looking quite peaceful. 

Her daughter came out and told us that she would respond to us if we talked to her.  After the rest of her family left, we went and stood next to her.  Jimmy told her we were there.  She turned her head toward us, opened her eyes, and then closed them again.  That was enough for the moment.  She was responsive, and that was all we needed for now.

We went home and marveled at the day, and I knew to my core that God had had His hand guiding the surgeons.  I knew to my core that God had played a very large role in her surviving surgery.

I wondered quietly to myself how this would affect her.  For the moment, it didn't matter because we still had her.  She was still with us.

Jimmy and I decided that we would go up to the hospital together on my lunch break the following day.

I think we were both expecting her to still be pretty much the same as the day before.

Imagine my shock when we rounded the corner and she was sitting in a chair smiling, talking, and laughing.  It was as if she had not just survived an aneurysm and brain surgery.  It was the closest thing I have ever seen to a miracle.  It felt like I had personally won the lottery, and I have only known her a year and a half.  I can't imagine the emotions coursing through everyone else.

I text her husband this morning and learned that she has been up walking.  She is making continual progress.  Things are looking very good.  It is incredible to me.

I wrote this as a reminder that there is a God up there, and He is listening, and He does care.  My heart is filled with gratitude all over again just typing this.  

I talk to God regularly about my random, trivial nonsense.  I pray all the time.  Sometimes literally just chit-chatting.  But the praying I did on Monday was a whole different kind of praying entirely.  It was a broken, desperate pleading.  It was an "I really need You to hear me here" kind of prayer.  I'm incredibly grateful that He loves me and that He listened when I called out to Him and then reminded me that He is still in control.  I had no idea how it would all play out, but He at least gave me the comfort of knowing He was there.  He was in the midst of it all.  He had not forgotten any of us.

He never does.