A Quick Hospital Debrief

IMG_0751It was a horrific experience. And a brilliant one.

My stomach still rolls at the thought of that room. I may never be able to wear my favorite perfume again because it now reminds me of the hospital. My body is still coming out of some kind of shock that happens when you’re not eating, not sleeping, not moving, and being really stressed out for 8 days. I love words and I know with absolute certainty that I’ll never have the right ones to communicate to someone else how traumatic this particular kind of isolation was for me. Easily the worst experience of my life. Horrific. 

But my heart overflows when I think of all the ways that my friends, family, and the Lord were there for me. Something about being so deprived of other distractions and so buried in a single, unchangeable miserable moment makes joyful things starkly, glaringly bright. As it is, I could make a list that went on for pages of all the moments that made joy rip through my heart. How very well loved I felt. By everyone. And especially by the Lord. Brilliant. 

I drafted about 30 posts while I was there, but didn’t put any of them up because opinions formed under such extremes tend to be skewed. I’m letting them sit so I can revisit them with a less extreme eye. But many posts to come either way.

I can’t recall ever going through such an acute emotional, spiritual, and psychological recalibration so–as you can imagine–my brain is on overdrive processing through all the changes in perspective.

I’ve been out walking around all day, just enjoying being free and alive and in love with the Lord’s creation, and I keep stopping every five minutes to jot down something on my “have to blog about this” list. Excited to share some of those things with you guys in the upcoming days and weeks.

But for now… I’m home. I’m fine. And I’m thankful. 

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Content with Weakness

“How’s my favorite dance partner?”

That’s the message I woke up to yesterday morning. And it immediately made me smile. Despite the laundry that I needed to do. And the dream I’d just had in which I woke up at 5 p.m. and missed the Cowboys game (weird, I know… apparently in the dream I wasn’t worried about the fact that I had also missed my accountability group meeting).

The message was from someone I haven’t seen–let alone danced with–in 7 or 8 years. He lives 18 hours from me. We’ve probably only “spoken” 3 times in the intervening years. But his message was a nice one to wake up to and brought back some of my favorite memories of swing dancing in barns in Colorado.

Where am I going with this? It occurred to me that his message was brave. Continue reading