Trust Me

You know the Lord is teaching you dependence when a man in a white coat rattles off a phrase in a foreign language and when you respond, "English?" he unplugs your hospital bed and wheels you out the door, into the elevator, through a tunnel, and down an empty hallway before depositing you alone to wait for a nurse. I knew I was getting x-rays, and I was vaguely familiar with the route, but I had to trust that's what was happening then. Alone in the hall, I was completely at the mercy of anyone walking by and completely secure in the hands of my Savior. I had some time to kill, so I started singing, wondering what the Germans would think of my impromptu English concert. Any guesses what song (other than "Rehab") has been stuck in my head lately? I'll give you a hint - I AM TIIITAAAANIIIIUM! The screws in my back are titanium, and I am confident that joke will NEVER get old.

Eventually a nurse did come get me to take me for x-rays, and it was quite a different adventure than my last trip to the x-ray room. I was able to laugh along with jokes about my IKEA bed that had to be turned and twisted under and next to the x-ray machine while removing headboards and adjusting sideboards to make sure it was aligned and that I wouldn't fall over while sitting upright in the bed. The jovial mood was completely different from my last trip to x-ray that consisted of my crying out in pain while nurses tried to first sit me up then transfer me to a board when that was unsuccessful. 

I was left in agony after the first experience, but I was blissfully content as they returned me to the hall to be picked up by an orderly today. Just like a kindergartener with her name and address pinned to her shirt, I lay in the hall with a sticker that has my name and room number on my bed trusting that I'd get back to my room eventually. I trusted God was in control when I was completely helpless - and he is faithful. 

I'm back in my room for one more night, and tomorrow morning I head off to rehab!