Awake

That first week in the hospital was a blur... a blur of feelings, a blur of vision, a blur reality. What is the place? Am I alive who are these people?
One of my first thoughts was, "Why am I back here, on earth?" Surely heaven was i my grasp... now, the reality of God's presence and being with Him had vanished. Whatever world I came back to was now my reality. I was stunned.
I lay there in that hospital ICU room with tubes coming out of me from places I didn't think you could stick tubes. More Borg than human. Worst of all, I was on a breathing machine. That meant not only could I not breath on my own, I couldn't speak. I couldn't communicate. I couldn't ask questions. I would have to wait to ask what had happened to me.

It was in that haze that my memory really begins. As I lay there, unmoving, immobile, incapable of speech, and with fuzzy vision, a group of warriors walked in...prayer warriors. Led by the most capable prayer general I knew, Pastor Jack. The pastor of our sponsoring church.
They walked in, surrounded my bed, shared pleasantries, joined hands, read Scripture, and began to pray.
My recovery began that moment. I was dropped. In my helplessness, I was dropped into the arms of my loving God who would be more that enough in the years of recovery in front of me.

"Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up." (James 5:14-15 HCSB)