The most excruciating pain I can remember brought me trembling to my knees this morning. I woke up my parents and they took me to the Emergency Room. The first nurse asked me my symptoms. I told her, among other things, that I could not urinate. The second nurse gave me a cup and told me she needed an analysis. “Hmm,” I couldn’t help but wonder, “are there ER nurses laughing at me in a hidden room somewhere?” Clearly communication broke down somewhere between point A and point B. After politely explaining that this was the whole reason why I was at the hospital in the first place, a doctor came into my room and showed me a clipboard telling me that I had been in a car accident. I was in awful pain, but I was 95% sure that I had not been in any car accidents on the way to the ER. Even so, he proceeded to show me my own name, and I could not argue that my name was, in fact, on the car wreck clipboard. He left with an air of victory and I waited until my new, non-car wreck doctor arrived. He told me that I probably had a kidney stone and should get a CAT scan to make sure. I put on my stupid sheet that doesn’t button in the back and ended up passing the kidney stone while waiting for the CAT scan machine to warm up. Some people compare a man passing a kidney stone to a woman giving birth, but I’m not really sure who those people are, because I personally don’t know any men who have given birth. Fortunately for you, I am way too psychologically scarred to even talk about passing the stone, but I took a photo imitating how I might have looked to make light of the subject:
Well, at least the ordeal was over and I could go home. We decided to go through with the CAT scanning, anyways, since the machine had already warmed up and all. Might as well spend a few grand on a picture, it’s not like I’m trying to fund any mission trips around the world or anything. I’m very glad I did, though, because it turns out that I wasn’t fated for mere mediocrity; no, two more were on the way! Triplets. I’m trying to remain positive about everything, because the Lord hasn’t given us a spirit of fear, but of comfort and peace of mind, so I am optimistically naming them “Tiny Tim,” “Frodo,” and “Tink.” This is by far the weirdest blog I ever hope to write. I’m uncharacteristically ignoring the voice in the back of my head with the British accent who begs me not to post this, but the pain is too great to sleep, I’m fasting from TV/video games, and yet I must keep my mind occupied.
To be honest, it isn’t easy to remain positive or joke about this. I’ve never before felt such pain, and I dread what is yet to come, but I can still praise my King. I am so thankful that I am not alone in this. He walks with me every step of the way and eases my discomfort. He strengthens my back so that I can better endure. He opens my eyes so that I can turn this pain into compassion and empathy for others. He humbles my spirit so that I am reminded of my total reliance upon Him. I praise Him in this moment. How could I accept the incredible blessings He has poured over my life and reject Him in moments of grief? All my friends are gone and my father speaks at church tomorrow and needs his rest, but God is ever faithful.
I have a lot to say but I want to wrap this up and lie down. If you believe in the power of prayer and feel so inclined, please pray that the pain does not distract me from my walk. Pray that my heart remains attentive so that I can glorify Him in all I do and say. Pray that no excessive complications arise that could cause greater distress to my body or to my upcoming mission trip. And while we’re on the subject, please pray that my World Race funds are covered, as I am still thousands below where I need to be in order to go. Thank you for reading my rants, caring for my cause, and putting up with my problems. Here’s a happier picture to end on a note of praise!
