I was eight days out from a surgery to remove a tumor from behind my left ear. The surgery had taken a couple of hours. Because it was against a bone and in a spot where facial nerves converged, it has left that side of my face and my ear temporarily numb. Now I know that eight days out is really not long enough to be feeling “all better”. But on Friday, I had just about had it…with the fatigue that just wouldn’t let me get anything done, with the dizziness that is resultant from either the numbness or the antibiotic, with being in that bed for so many hours of that week, with the fact that there was a beautiful snow on the ground and I could not get out and play in it, with the tube that dangled from my neck for 5 days and…I had just about had it.
To top it off, I got up that morning and the internet was not working. There was banking to do, a Bible study that was internet-dependent and scheduling that needed to happen. The internet work was the one kind of work that I could amble through in my weakened condition and now, even that work was going to be waiting till another time.
And then, my daughter called. She was on her way to the doctor to have testing done because there were fears about the safety of her unborn child. I cannot even tell you how that affected my already worn psyche.
And it was Valentine’s Day. It was Valentine’s day and I had a Frankensteinian incision down the side of my face (not really, but I was at my pity party, remember), I was starting to get a yeast infection and then a wasp—-that’s right, a wasp in the middle of February, in my kitchen—landed on my leg (unbeknownst to me) and suddenly stung me right through my pajama pants. If you could scream a wasp to death, I would not have needed Glenn to come over and stomp him. Rubbing vinegar on my burning leg, I told my valentine that it had simply not been a very good day.
But now I am ten days out from a surgery to remove a BENIGN tumor from my neck. The surgery took two hours because I’m blessed with an excellent surgeon who takes care to avoid permanently damaging any facial nerves. He has speculated that, in a few weeks, the numbness will have been reduced to a spot the size of a quarter. It is day ten and I still get pretty tired pretty easily. But you know what? Four different families at West Huntsville have brought food over to Glenn and me. Good home-cooked food. Lots of folks have sent cards and many more have told me that they remembered me in prayer.
I am ten days out and that antibiotic—the one that makes me dizzy and gives me a yeast infection—has successfully protected me from getting an infection in my neck. Because of that, I was able to get rid of that bothersome tube.
And being in that bed!…How many times when my kids were small and I had a bug or they had viruses would I have just LOVED to have been able to go to bed! What a blessing when snow is on the ground to have a nice warm bed, with a reading lamp and a candle burning and a snowy mountain outside my window What? Complain and murmur about THIS set-up?
And my grandchild? All is well. The fears have been allayed and the doctor says not to worry. Can you believe we live in a day when Ben and Hannah could just go and see that baby moving and hear his/her heart beating and KNOW that all is well? What? Grumble about a day like this one?
So I have gone to my place of prayer. I told my Father that I remembered how the ground opened up and swallowed Korah, Dathan and Abiram when they murmured against His chosen leaders (Numbers 16). I struggled with words to even say how sorry I was that I had murmured all the day long. I praised him for the word BENIGN, for the baby, and for the bounty.
As I sit here and recall the murmuring on the freedom side of the Red Sea, the murmuring that caused the earth to open and swallow, and the murmuring spies who prevented the Israelites from entering Canaan, I am struck with the truth that none of these murmuring Jews had a house in which to live. None of them had a car to drive around in that wilderness. None of them had food in the refrigerator and not one of them could pop out of bed and walk a few feet in a controlled climate to an indoor bathroom. Most importantly, when they went to worship, they watched blood flow from animal sacrifices—blood that could not forgive their sins. And not one of them held the completed Will of God in their hands. God expressed His wrath for their murmuring. How much more must he hate it when I say, “This was not a good day.”
I could be experiencing “malignant”, “miscarriage”, and “meager”. Some of my dearest sisters would have those very words included in recollections of their recent days. But, for now, I have “benign”, “baby” and “bounty”. May I be ashamed if I murmur in these good days! May I use these days to grow more and more like the Savior, so that, when the real burdens come my way, I will praise Him then, too.
Friday was a good day.
(p.s. My husband offered his consolation when the wasp stung me: “Cindy, it could have been much worse. He could have stung me!”)
