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We went to see The Big Bison’s cardiologist yesterday.
He told us that barring other symptoms that arise, he’ll see us in a year. And, that my dear husband was fixed.
Fixed, but not cured.
The Big Bison’s body makes too much cholesterol. That was what gummed up the works. So, it’s my husband’s job to do all the things they’ve been teaching him to do: take his meds. Eat right. Exercise.
One of our sweet friends who came to visit the night before my husband’s surgery listened carefully to the story of how the BB came to accidentally give himself his own stress test, through attempting to chop the wood of that fallen hickory tree. And then she remarked: “That was no accident that that April storm that blew past your place the month before the heart attack. It was no accident that hickory tree got blown down. In fact, it was no accident that hickory nut from which that tree grew, got planted where it did on your land.”
And you know? I think she’s absolutely right. That hickory tree (the very kind of wood my husband would want for his smoker) was blown down for a reason: the Big Bison needed to know that his ticker needed fixing, rather than fall dead from a massive heart attack like his Daddy did so many years ago. The BB needed to go outside that day, and fail his own self-inflicted, self-administered stress test. I think God caused that hickory tree to grow, right where it was planted, on purpose, for such a time as this, for this very reason. God still has work for that man to do.
Damage from that April storm.
It gave me chills when my friend uttered those words to us that night in the hospital, and it gives me chills right now, in the retelling. Because I believe that God called forth each one of us into existence on this earth. I believe, in fact, that He has a divine purpose for each one of us. I believe we each have an appointed number of days, that only He knows the number of. Scripture teaches that He has good works that He planned in advance for us to do. Sometimes, people are called home to heaven prematurely, or, at least, that’s how it seems to us. My Mom was one of those people. In my opinion, she left this earth far too soon! I wanted – needed – more time with her!!! I still grieve her loss. I’ve had a couple of miscarriages: little lives who never got to see one day of life outside my womb. I’ve known friends who have lost children. That kind of loss is staggering. Heart breaking. WHY??? Even more to the point, why was my husband allowed to live, when I have friends who have lost their mates to heart attacks, to cancer?
I’m so sorry for each and every soul who reads this with the memory of an agonizing loss, or with a sense of dread for a coming loss. Because I know that some of my readers have themselves been diagnosed with a terminal illness, or have children who have been diagnosed with life-threatening conditions. I have no easy answer for your situation. I grieve with you, in fact! I guess we humans have been struggling with these same questions for as long as we’ve been on this planet.
But for our situation, I will say this: it appears that my husband still has some important work to do before the Father takes him home. He was put on notice to get his heart fixed, and thanks be to God, we responded to the notification.
So, now, the Big Bison takes his statins and his baby aspirin. He eats more carefully. He exercises regularly. And on we go.
Fixed, but not cured.
Doing the things we know to do, and leaving our lives in the hands of the One who loves us so much that He allowed His own heart to be broken, by allowing His own Son to die, so that He could live with us forever.
May we all understand the times: our days are finite. I want to do the good works that God has prepared in advance for me to do. Those of you who believe in Him: seek His face! Ask Him to direct your path, and to show you the works that He has prepared in advance for you to do, and do them with all your heart!