I hate hospitals. I hate doctors.
And yet, here I sit in a hospital waiting room, standing watch as my wife of 39 years goes through surgery. It is a helpless feeling, a situation in which my wife and I know that even though it is a relatively routine surgery, it still involves general anesthetic. And as countless horror stories have shared, anything can happen.
Like I said, it’s a “routine” surgery, if there is such a thing. We have been planning for it for several months, and our lives will be better in the long run because of it. But my mind is filled with anticipation, worry, stress. And I am reminded of the lie that we surround ourselves with every day.
Control. We convince ourselves that we are in control of our lives, and if we aren’t, we pursue that. We want to be captains of our own fate, masters of our destiny, when all along we won’t admit that we are floating along on the stream like dried leaves.
These are the times when I am glad that I am a believer. I believe in a God that is in control and has my best interest at heart, and because of that, I can be honest with myself and realize that I’m not. But being/not being in control is one of those issues that comes up pretty regularly, usually during times like I have today.
And these are the times when we have to face the reality that God is in control, and if he isn’t, then well, your life is out of control.
Those are the facts as I know them. It’s not always easy to admit that my life and the lives of those I love are out of my hands, but when I do, it’s often easier to find peace.
And peace is a good thing.