Last month I spent almost three days in the hospital. Shards of icy glass disguised as words like "mass", "lung", and "cancer" sliced the silence of the room and embedded themselves in every fleshy inch of my body and my brain as the doctor spoke. Thoughts of dying, death and suffering consumed me during the day and at night left me wide awake.
In the midnight hour, between phlebotomists and almost paralyzing fears, I had deep, messy, talks with God. Sometimes, they sounded like strangled cries from afar, while other times we engaged in philosophical, theological debates about the matters of life and death. I did all of the talking while He listened.
At times like these, if you don't have a relationship with the One who gave you life, who do you talk to about saving yours? I wondered this more than once.
When I was dismissed from the hospital, I exited the doors with the news that while I do have some medical challenges, lung cancer is not one of them.
"Now, Lord, what do I wait for? My hope is in You." Psalm 39:7