My Valentine

My world got very small last week. It was just me in my chair.

I couldn’t move without pain, or watch TV or read books without inducing the Great Nausea. I couldn't comprehend the letters on the page clearly enough to write. I sent the occasional text message on my phone in an attempt to stay connected with somebody, somewhere; but even glancing at my iPod sent my head spinning and my stomach rolling.

I tried to pray – to use all this extra time to visit with my Abba – but each time I began, midsentence, mid-word, I’d discover that my mind had wandered up another spiral staircase in a different direction.

Finally, in desperation, I squinted into the bright light of my iPod and set Pandora radio to my “This is the stuff” station. I turned the volume way down low, and set the iPod on the chairback near my head. I leaned back and closed my eyes. 

And Abba came to me.

When I couldn’t talk to Him, my Abba talked to me. When I felt most alone, He carried me and cradled me. When I slide into those scary dark noisy MRI tubes, or get wheeled down those brightly lit white hallways into the OR, He’s in there waiting for me. He holds my family together and cares for them tenderly while I’m curled up in my chair just trying to survive the day. He’s always been there and He always will be... 

He is Hope.

He is All that is Faithful.

He is Love.

Abba, will You be my Valentine?