Autumn Song

Okay, well that was rough.

After a summer jam-packed with procedures, tests, lab work, CT scans, TEE’s, Cardiac Cath, x-rays, surgery, EKGs, hospital stays, heart monitors and multiple doctor/cardiologist/surgeon appointments, the summer season culminated in open heart surgery… and man, that was rough!

“No one prepared my husband or me for how hard this would be!” I told my cardiologist after the fact. 

“I intentionally didn’t tell you,” he responded, “because if you knew, you wouldn’t have done it. And you needed to have it done. If not, your heart would have stopped within 18 months.” 

Likewise, my big Puerto Rican surgeon confirmed, “For the first month after surgery, my patients hate me. But then they love me.” Yep, I’m slowly getting there.

Still, after 5 weeks of recovery, all of my health providers encouraged us to go ahead to Italy… so here we are, recovering in our medieval hilltop city in Umbria. Surprisingly, Dan had to recover as much as I did. Differently. Not physically– but emotionally. We both needed a break from our home in Tennessee; we needed to be far away from the appointments and treatments that marred the peace of our southern home. We needed to rest without the expectation of that 40 minute drive to the hospital “one more time.”

Citta della Pieve here in Italy is peaceful for convalescence. Days are slow and calm, which suits my continuing recovery (“ho ancora un po’ di dolore”; I still have some pain) and Dan’s need for deep rest. Friends here in Italy welcomed us back with such warmth, expressing concern over my well being. So many prayed for me. Thankfully Clive, a dear British expat friend who is an elder in our church here, is a retired doctor who was very familiar with the details of my surgery. If I had any questions or concerns in recovery, I would go to him first, and he would point me in the right direction. I feel safe.

At the same time, this idyllic place isn’t without its problems. We returned to find a heated disagreement between two expat friends that needs to be resolved so that we can continue gathering together as a group for those wonderful lingering dinners and conversation. We also learned that an Italian friend is going through the hurtful emotions of divorce. Even in the most beautiful, peaceful places on earth, we can’t escape suffering in its many forms. It’s an inevitable part of life. Yet good can always come out of these most difficult times. 

During those nightmarish days in the ICU, I felt abandoned and hopeless. I wanted to feel God near me, but I didn’t. And yet our faith is not predicated on our feelings and emotions– it’s much deeper. It supersedes suffering.

In Philippians 3:8-10, Paul the Apostle wrote, “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord…” Like Paul, I wanted to really know God beyond mere emotions. “That I might know him and the power of his resurrection and may share his sufferings…”  

Many times, I’ve known “the power of his resurrection,” but it’s only by suffering that we grasp the full orb of the reality of Who He is. He knows what suffering is. He knew it like no other. He felt abandoned to the point of crying, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” How would we have any concept of that if we never felt that abandonment; if we didn’t know suffering? How could we truly know Him?

So, as I write this while listening to the church bells tolling outside my Italian window, I suppose suffering is a gift. I’m still feeling like the disappointed child who opens the gift and says, “But I didn’t want this!” And yet some day he’ll find out how valuable it is.