Good Friday April 10, 2009
I usually provide a scripture at the head of these blogs, taken from the Bible League’s yearly diary. However, while the Bible League diary acknowledges today as Good Friday, it has the most inappropriate text for the day which I hesitate to display. Instead, it is far more important to give some thought once again to the meaning of the cross. But a lifetime of Easters narrows down the amount of unused ideas I have left, in addition to the thoughts about Easter from the universal church over the last two millennia.
Yet the events of life that we pass through continually offer fresh insights into the crucifixion. Particularly, my own surgery adds real meaning to the cross. You may remember that at my pre-op a couple of weeks before surgery, I was given an armband with name and barcode on it—with dire warnings not to remove it or “you’ll get no blood transfusions, nothin’ if you don’t have it on for surgery.” My surgeon told me I a lost a lot of blood during the extended surgery time and transfusions were needed. I’m just glad I kept that armband on!
It feels a little peculiar to think that I have someone else’s blood flowing through my arteries and veins. Although I have been a blood donor most of my life, I am particularly grateful for that one who donated blood for me. The parallel is all too clear. I am eternally grateful for the blood that was given for me at the cross. Human blood gives me existence, but the only life that has meaning is the transcendent life gained through acquiring the blood of Jesus Christ. Because his blood was real, purpose for this life and assurance for the next is also real.
To come back to the mundane, on Wednesday the doctor removed the hemovac line draining the wound and staples holding my stomach together—it’s still holding!—as promised. Life is still hampered by a catheter, but I’m learning how to cope with it until April 20th when it will be removed. Meantime, ablutions and a shower plus the shenanigans necessary to survive my post surgery world take an hour or so each morning. Then I need time to rest! Returning strength will take time, but progresses—after all, God is the real healer.
You can’t keep a good woman down. It is three days since Ann’s foot surgery, but the fine weather has called her into the garden where she is happily pottering. That after a morning littering the kitchen as she cooks up a storm. My appetite isn’t taking too long to return!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Wednesday April 8, 2009
He will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy. Job 8:21.
This time in our lives and health is not the place of laughter and joy—at least not all the time. Mind you, we do see the funny side of things quite frequently, and that helps to keep us sane. As most of you will recall, we live a busy lifestyle; after all, we are still only in our early seventies, but to see us both now moving around as if we had one foot in the grave . . .
Ann had her surgery yesterday, and arrived home about 7.00 p.m. quite elated. The cause of her elation? On arrival in the operating room she was given a choice of general anaesthetic or an epidural (spinal injection) and she chose the latter; she was quite proud of herself. Way to go, Ann. The surgeon chatted away while fixing her toe, although she found the sound of the saw a little disturbing. This morning we were slow moving at first, but by noon Ann was walking (carefully) on the foot without even the support of a cane.
Fortunately, we have the option of doing only the necessary things, and resting when we need to. I have taken things easy this morning as I have to see my surgeon this afternoon. I felt good yesterday and as expected, not so good today. Healing is often two steps forward and one back; or overdoing it one day and paying for it the next. But overall, we both feel grateful for the pleasure of the returning strength we feel.
We both enjoy life the life God has graciously afforded us, and he has provided us with a full sense of humour. And as our text says, he will yet fill our mouths with laughter and our lips with shouts of joy. What an awesome God we serve.
He will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy. Job 8:21.
This time in our lives and health is not the place of laughter and joy—at least not all the time. Mind you, we do see the funny side of things quite frequently, and that helps to keep us sane. As most of you will recall, we live a busy lifestyle; after all, we are still only in our early seventies, but to see us both now moving around as if we had one foot in the grave . . .
Ann had her surgery yesterday, and arrived home about 7.00 p.m. quite elated. The cause of her elation? On arrival in the operating room she was given a choice of general anaesthetic or an epidural (spinal injection) and she chose the latter; she was quite proud of herself. Way to go, Ann. The surgeon chatted away while fixing her toe, although she found the sound of the saw a little disturbing. This morning we were slow moving at first, but by noon Ann was walking (carefully) on the foot without even the support of a cane.
Fortunately, we have the option of doing only the necessary things, and resting when we need to. I have taken things easy this morning as I have to see my surgeon this afternoon. I felt good yesterday and as expected, not so good today. Healing is often two steps forward and one back; or overdoing it one day and paying for it the next. But overall, we both feel grateful for the pleasure of the returning strength we feel.
We both enjoy life the life God has graciously afforded us, and he has provided us with a full sense of humour. And as our text says, he will yet fill our mouths with laughter and our lips with shouts of joy. What an awesome God we serve.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Tuesday April 7, 2009
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. 1 Peter 1:3.
It`s now three days since I arrived home from the Hospital, and an eventful three days it has been. At least now free of IV tubes and gas lines I now only have to cope with drainage from the wound—a hemovac line into a suction container attached or carried somewhere on my person, and of course, that contraption of the devil, a catheter, complete with night bag and day bag. The most simple manoeuvres take on the dexterity of a contortionist, while trying to avoid the twists and turns that remind me of why things are this way!
We made two visits to emergency. Sunday night I found that abominable hemovac line was blocked and the exit wound oozing at about 11.00 p.m. That was fixed by a hospital flush and a return to bed about 3.30 a.m. Monday evening, the same exit wound was becoming infected, and a new visit to emergency produce a couple of vials of antibiotics. Healing is not a straight line!
However, today I am feeling much more in control, able to cope with these latest life games within a somewhat organised framework. Just as well, as Ann is off to surgery today to have a bunion removed. I have the house more or less to myself—some kind folk called in to ensure I was OK—so it is a God given (forced!) opportunity to make sure that I can cope reasonably with the daily round. Of greater joy is that tomorrow the hemovac tube and my staples will be removed. One more step towards liberation.
Believe me, I am intensely grateful for the professionals, equipment and gadgets that enabled my operation and its continuing recovery. But there will be a time when all sickness and death will be wiped out, our own resurrection to new life guaranteed by Christ`s own resurrection and victory over death. No more staples and drainage lines! Thus, however great my thankfulness of the benefits of this life, I can heartily join with Peter in praising ``the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.``
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. 1 Peter 1:3.
It`s now three days since I arrived home from the Hospital, and an eventful three days it has been. At least now free of IV tubes and gas lines I now only have to cope with drainage from the wound—a hemovac line into a suction container attached or carried somewhere on my person, and of course, that contraption of the devil, a catheter, complete with night bag and day bag. The most simple manoeuvres take on the dexterity of a contortionist, while trying to avoid the twists and turns that remind me of why things are this way!
We made two visits to emergency. Sunday night I found that abominable hemovac line was blocked and the exit wound oozing at about 11.00 p.m. That was fixed by a hospital flush and a return to bed about 3.30 a.m. Monday evening, the same exit wound was becoming infected, and a new visit to emergency produce a couple of vials of antibiotics. Healing is not a straight line!
However, today I am feeling much more in control, able to cope with these latest life games within a somewhat organised framework. Just as well, as Ann is off to surgery today to have a bunion removed. I have the house more or less to myself—some kind folk called in to ensure I was OK—so it is a God given (forced!) opportunity to make sure that I can cope reasonably with the daily round. Of greater joy is that tomorrow the hemovac tube and my staples will be removed. One more step towards liberation.
Believe me, I am intensely grateful for the professionals, equipment and gadgets that enabled my operation and its continuing recovery. But there will be a time when all sickness and death will be wiped out, our own resurrection to new life guaranteed by Christ`s own resurrection and victory over death. No more staples and drainage lines! Thus, however great my thankfulness of the benefits of this life, I can heartily join with Peter in praising ``the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.``
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