Her BrainStorm

Surgery day: By this point, my brain is in a total fog and unable to gauge what is happening around me. You see, my faith in the Lord was unshakeable – or so I thought (battle has begun). I simply assured my friends and family, “God’s got this. I’ll be fine. Watch. Just watch how God will work things out. After all, He does reassure us that He works all things out together for the good of those that love Him, right? And I love Him. So, what’s the problem? (Jowzee accent). I’ll be back at work and in the gym in no time. (shrug) No biggie. Just think of it as like another root canal.” (or so I thought).

It’s a cold December day. The time is 3:00 am, and the hospital is quiet. The normal hustle-and-bustle of patients being wheeled around in stretchers; visitors asking for directions; doctors and nurses in their gently washed scrubs are not so visible at this hour. An overflow of Christmas lights and poinsettias fill the hospital halls instead. I do however see a group of visitors in the corner waving hi to us. They are familiar faces! Church members and pastors have gathered to pray for… me. (thank You, God). They gather around me to pray to the One who holds my life in His hands. The peace of God envelopes me, and I am ready for this. Let’s go! (nervous laugh to follow).

Soon after, I am escorted into a private room where my family greet me. Mom is a wreck and in a state of complete frenzy. My typical man-should-not-be-emotional-and-never-cry-Korean dad had been crying. I can see the tears behind his somber eyes before he abruptly turns to face the wall to discreetly wipe them away. He is holding my little girl’s hand as she looks up at me wondering what’s wrong with everyone, and why umma is sitting in a stretcher wearing a hospital gown. I let her climb up on the stretcher to give her the biggest bear hug and to reassure her that everything will be fine. God, I love this kid.