Tuesday, August 26, 2008

time to re-start my words

So, I'm determined to visit this blog more often. I've made MANY promises to return, especially in light of the past few days of silence. I would like to continue to enjoy the world from a blogger's view...and I have...I've just kept my findings to myself. But I'm happy to share words of unexpected joy from this past week.

The last five days have been terrifying at times and yet completely sweet. I've felt my cup overflow with love and prayers. I know we often say that we'll pray for each other, and I usually accept that promise with gratitude and thanks for the thought, but not really sure if it will impact my result. I can say with confidence that I've never felt so loved and so secure and so whole as I did when I woke up from surgery. The peace that passes all understanding was flooding my heart, and while my jaw and throat felt like a truck had just run over them, I was crying tears of inexplicable joy. Going through something like this has been such a wonderful opportunity to see the community that God has drawn for me here in New York and I have been consistently touched.

There was new-fabulous-British-friend Sam bringing me flowers the day before surgery, Laurel taking two trains and walking across the scariest section of Central Park just to calm my nerves in the hours of waiting, the Doctors and Nurses who were so caring and lovely, despite the 4 hour delay, Jenny's hug and cheer and help in getting me home. She filled my prescriptions, she fought with Duane-Reade, she called 10 or more waiting family and friends and repeated the story over and over again. She set up visitors to come by on Saturday. And then Saturday and Sunday, visitors galore, and more ice cream and pudding and apple sauce and yogurt and drinks than a girl could ever hope for...if you like any of those items, please come by this week! Sam H. indulged me with "Persuasion" and there was a trail of kindness all day long.


I walked to church on Sunday and was able to sit next to my dear friend Amber and have her support as I wept through the Doxology and hymns about the goodness of our God. I cried not out of frustration that I couldn't sing but just in the overwhelming redeeming voice of the Lord that shouted to my insides. Truly my heart is full. It sounds a little corny when I write it out like this but there is no other way to explain it. Again, Laurel came beside me after church and was my mouthpiece and even went on silly errands for me, happily explaining all my needs.
Perhaps therein lies another lesson...weakness shows us that we are meant to lean on each other. I tend to relish in my self-sufficiency. And this weekend, I had no choice but to rest on the stronger shoulders of my friends and family.

Tonight marks the end of my complete prescribed silence. I get to start using my words tomorrow. As I have a chance to speak the thanks I have been mouthing to so many, I look forward to choosing words to explain the depth of this gift. And I'm confident that someday soon, I'll be singing once again, always, only, for my King.

1 comment:

Laura said...

Kristen-- this is a beautiful entry. I'm looking forward to more, if it's good for you too! I hope your voice is healing as it should be! Love you.