If the devil is in the details, then why not God? There are times it is simply demanded of us to pause and absorb the good realities of God. I don't know that I'll ever come to the end of this wondering: the God who holds fast the threads of a universe in motion, He cares for me?
Maybe our greatest test of faith every day is finding Him in the here and now, in this moment so unbelievably ordinary. Maybe this is worship, and maybe this is joy.
Two days ago, we were scheduled to leave for the States for Colin's surgery scheduled today, Friday.
And two days ago, Colin woke with an obvious cold. I knew colds were show-stoppers for anesthesiologists.
I'd panicked and called a friend who is a doctor. Would they do the procedure if he had a cold? Should I even risk logging two days and ten hours in the car only to be told that the surgery would need to be rescheduled?
But there was simply no fortune-telling of this cold, no reading its symptoms like one reads a palm. There was only waiting. And Wednesday's Colin would not necessarily be Friday's Colin. All that mattered was that Friday's Colin was visibly well.
We left, we prayed, and we waited. Waited for the rousing of the dragon-cough from its lair. Waited for the onset of fever. But the cold made only modest moves, modest gains.
Last night, I'd tossed and prayed fitfully all night. There is no eloquence in fear. But with my small faith, I asked God to find Colin visibly better in the morning.
And the miracle was ours for the taking. I woke this morning to a Colin who wasn't coughing. A Colin whose nose wasn't dripping, who wasn't feverish. This is the Colin that the anesthesiologist met this morning, hugging a bear and tracing C's and O's on his new magnetic writing pad. The doctor asked me his series of perfunctory questions. My every yes left me to wonder when we'd trip the alarm wire, when we'd be wheeled back to the receptionist area and forced to reschedule.
But the Colin who was visibly better was wheeled into surgery.
The ENT greeted me after the surgery, telling me that when they opened him up, there was indeed infection in both ears and in his sinuses. And still, everything had gone smoothly.
"I can't believe he wasn't in more pain, wasn't more visibly sick," she'd ventured.
Today's miracle was mine: small, no doubt, in proportion to the needs of so many, but mattering to me.
* * * * *
I'm happy to report that the patient enjoyed a chocolate milkshake after surgery, ripped eagerly into another birthday present, and raced around his new dump truck until mom announced that it was naptime. We hope to head back to Toronto tomorrow.
I am unbelievably grateful - that you thought to pray, and the He cared to hear and answer.