It was just before Christmas, less than eighteen months into my dream job. The phone call came about 4:30 pm and I hadn't conversed with our publisher in a couple of months. He had news to deliver: he'd sold the magazine, and the new owner would be here in the morning to talk to me.
Well, that was fine... I guessed. The next morning I thought, well, I could work with this guy. I'm not entrenched in any editorial focus/slant... I'm pretty flexible. A week later, he told me he couldn't afford to pay me what I'd been making, and gave me 90 days.
Wow. This was the dream job I thought I'd been waiting for. Sure, it had taken a toll on my health. Yes, it had been a rather weird situation, with the owners living several states away. But I'd waited a long time for the opportunity.
The Lord giveth, and He taketh away...
The circumstances were so upside down—I'd finally mastered the massive task of managing the magazine process, of being creative on demand and writing a bulk of the articles—that I knew God had to be in this somewhere.
Then I remembered a prayer I uttered under my breath as I lay in the hospital bed last September. (Oh, did I mention? A perforated bowel, in ICU a couple of days, another week in hospital, 50-some staples, opened up from bottom of rib cage to down yonder...). It was this: "Something has to change." My life had become so crazy, work was consuming my time, my thoughts, which was good to the point that it left idle time for me to wonder, and the process and circumstances I was expected to operate under were making me a bit wacky. (Read: grumpy.)
So, something WAS changing... and nine days before I leave here, something still IS changing. I have no idea what lies ahead. I only know I'm open to God's leading.
Because here's the deal: this health crisis was a true emergency. It could have had fatal consequences. But it turned out to be quite miraculous. I shouldn't have walked away without at least a temporary colostomy. But I did. I should have had some infection as a result. But I didn't. I should have been shaken beyond recognition. But I wasn't.
What I was, was surrounded by an amazing presence of grace. Not only was my healing miraculous, but I never could have fathomed the outpouring of love expressed and shown by my church peeps. Women were hanging out at my house, cleaning. Guys were out there in my .65-acre yard, sucking up leaves and mowing. People were slotted to bring in food, every other day...
The best, was an angel that came just when I needed her. Yes, I had a low moment, laying in that hospital bed. And has it prepared my heart to serve patients and their families? You bet.
I'd gone from being told I'd have my appendix removed to having a clipboard shoved at me that gave them permission to open me up exploratorily... because they did not know what they'd find. I'd experienced the shock of looking at the metal track up and down my belly. I'd handled a MAJOR loss of control... "But I don't have time for this... I have deadlines, I have kids, I'm a single mom..."
The final straw was a misunderstanding about some pain meds. With a nurse. That I'd had issues with, when my mom was in the hospital. Definitely I would not allow her in my hospital room, or anyone I care about, again...
So I finally broke. I put my earplugs in, and wept with my back to the door. And then she came. "Is there something you need?" she asked. The mother of a very dear friend, a very dear friend herself... a pink lady. Delivering newspapers. So I pulled out the earplugs, and told her everything.
God has such a lovely way of putting people in our path that we need, just when we need them. I thank God she was open to His leading that day... and hope the next time you feel his tugging on your sleeve, you answer the Call.
I'm trying to answer mine, by formally (and quite fearfully) entering a candidacy program for ministry in the United Methodist Church. No, I don't want to be a full-fledged preacher with a big congregation. But I want to serve... because, I think, there was some reason my life was spared that day/week in September. Obviously, to care for my two boys... but what else?
I think any brush with the near-death can put us on an existential path. Why am I still living and walking in this world? It also puts everything into perspective. Makes one think about doing something worthwhile, and enjoying it. Because we all have a finite amount of time...
