Though it seems irrational now, I can tell you in this photo, I was running through escape plans in my head. As I thought about various places to hide, I wondered over and over how long it would take for "them" to find me. I mean, this was New York City...with 8.5 million people, it would be easy to blend in and not be noticed. Could I stay in hiding long enough for them to say "never mind" with this whole crazy notion of surgery?
I didn't voice any of my lunatic plans to Shaun, but he must have seen the "flight-risk" written on my face because just before we walked through the doors, Shaun held my hand tight and asked, would I do the surgery for him, for the kids? I was so scared and wanting there to be a different way, but I resigned myself.
Today marks one year since that major life-altering, life-saving surgery. I'm filled with all manner of emotion, doing the mental work of bringing gratefulness up to the top of the heap. Because ultimately, I am here today and that is simply a miracle.
But wow. When I try to re-play the days and events that have happened since last July 2nd, it makes my brain short-circuit and I have to quickly shut it down. The hours, days, weeks and months that followed that fateful day have included unspeakable pain and frustration and questioning and just a lot of hard. So much hard.
And so much love. I can't think through this year without seeing faces flash through my mind of those who have made sacrifices and given such faithful love and care. We wouldn't have gotten through without our team...family and friends and strangers who stepped in and did life with us in the trenches. To know love like that is an unspeakable privilege and blessing.
This morning, on a beautiful summer day, Shaun and I walked down to Main Street to have breakfast together. We struggle to put our experiences and emotions from the past year into words...the weight of it is still just too much, all of it so raw. So instead, we just express our thanks. Today? We woke with breath in our lungs and we have been given another day together.
Today is a gift.
The thought of my suffering and homelessness is bitter beyond words.
I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss.
Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this:
The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease.
Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.