I know that feeling. It was the
middle of the night. The very dark, long, hard, part. Sometime along in my
hospital stay, I had learned that the hardest, deepest, darkest, longest, part
of night was around two or three. And I was there. I had been in the hospital
for over a week following a traumatic motor vehicle accident. I had multiple
rib fractures, internal organ damage and had suffered significant blood loss.
But, I was pulling through. Two days ago, I had been told I could go home
today, but they changed their mind and I had to stay for another procedure.
I had begged the doctor “Please,
let me go home, I’ll come back tomorrow.” But even as his kind blue eyes looked
down at me I knew he was not going to let me. “At least don’t make that
horrible nurse Ann take care of me then.” He had promised that although I did
need to stay another night, he could make sure that nurse was not assigned to
me again. So tonight here I was in a new room. Dad was beside me sleeping in a
chair.
My pain was crushing, even with the
twelve ice packs melting around my torso. They had given me the pain pills and
now I just had to wait. Wait for what? I was exhausted, had been all night but
couldn’t sleep. I was miserable in more pain than I’d even known to dread. I
ached, I was exhausted, I was discouraged, I had hot tears filling my eyes and
I felt so alone. “Dad?” I called. I tried to move my hand out under the bed
rail to reach his. But I was too tired to move it. It hurt too much to stretch
it out. I couldn’t even touch my Dad. “Dad” I called again, but this time even
weaker and quieter as the loneliness and pain chocked my throat with tears. I can’t even reach my Dad. I thought
with panic. And the pain got worse. The loneliness locked me in my bed under
the dreadful white sheets and ice packs.
I was so tired I could hardly cry, but then I felt His arms.
There in the room, where I felt all alone and discouraged. There in the room where
the pain was so heavy I could hardly move a muscle. There in my room He came
and held me safe in His arms. I never remember feeling Jesus like I did that
night. And sometimes, like today, when the tears come because my body won’t do
what I want it to, I think of the dark long hard part of the night, when Jesus
came and held me. And I know that no matter what I am always safe in the arms
of Jesus, safe on His gentle breast, there by His love o’re shadowed, safely my
soul doth rest.
