Fresh eggs for breakfast is a typically a good meal, but not in Romania. For some of us eggs for breakfast is the last thing we want to see on our plate in Romania. After eating eggs I begin to notice a rash on my hands. Over the course of a couple of days the rash begin to spread and spread fast. It was then that I realized it was not just poison ivy. Normally I would just ask doctor mom what to do, but in a foreign country I decided to give into my stubbornness and go see a doctor. So off to the doctor we went and the adventure began.
The local doctor was not open so we had to go to the hospital. Immediately the anxiety sat in. What were they going to do? My mom wasn’t here. Who was going to wait with me? I was scared to death. When we walked in the doctor began to ask what was wrong in Romania. Tootsie translated for me and we begin to describe the rash. As I told him what I had ate, he stopped me when the word eggs came out of my mouth. He called in a nurse who proceeded to take me to a room with many beds. I turned back to Tootsie as she took me to the room and noticed that she was not going to follow. Now the real fear set in.
They laid me down on a bed and began to gather around me. It was like a scene from a movie. All the nurses gathered and began prepping, except they spoke a language that was foreign to me. I didn’t know what was going on. I heard injection and began to shake. Who was going to hold my hand? I was alone and there was nobody there to explain what was going on. I began to tear up. As they wiped my tears, in broken English they tried to tell me not to cry. No cry. No cry. They were crazy; of course I was going to cry. I was alone in a hospital with needles going into my arm and seven nurses yelling over me in a foreign language. I needed someone to comfort me and tell me it was going to be ok.
Normally my mom would be there in a heartbeat. Not this time. I was lying in a bed with an I.V. in my arm and starting to feel sick. As I closed my eyes God begin to teach me something in the midst of what seem to be one of the scariest moments of my life. For the first time in my life it was impossible for me to find comfort in any human. There was no mom, no dad, and no best friend. It was just the nurses, God, and myself. I could only find comfort in my God. I could not lean on anyone else, but as soon as I realized this I felt more peace in that moment than I had ever felt when I found comfort in others. My God calmed my heart and held me in the scary moment. How often I forget that my God is my comforter. It is much easier to trust in man than in God, but God is a much more sufficient comforter.
Now that the anxiety was calmed, my mind found something else to run to. I began to worry about finances. How in the world would I pay for a hospital visit? I did not have that kind of money in my bank account. What was I going to do? When the I.V. was done the nurses released me and took me out to the nurses station. They handed me some papers and in broken English said thank you. I looked at John and asked, “How much do I owe them?” The nurse said it is free. FREE. Once again my God calmed my mind. He provided. How could I have forgotten that my God is my provider? He took care of me even when I doubted that He could. When we forget who He is, He reminds us. A trip to the hospital in Romania taught me that my God is a comforter and a provider.
