God? Is that you?

This last television season, I fell in love with one new show. Other than Lost, Eli Stone is the only show that I feel compelled to watch. A few weeks ago, I was watching a repeat of the show where Eli is arguing for a man whose wife was trying to have him declared mentally incompetent because he didn't want to continue his cancer treatments. The dying man said that God had told him to just enjoy the time he had left and not go through a painful procedure that would only add few more painful days to his life. He was asked by the opposing counsel what God sounded like to which he replied "it was only a feeling, I didn't actually hear a voice." The attorney then asked how he could be sure it was God and the defendant said that he just knew.

When it came time for Eli to argue for the man, he said that God speaks to us each in different ways. God spoke to the defendant through feelings. God spoke to Moses through a burning bush. And God speaks to Eli through George Michael. (You need to see the show to understand this. I could explain, but, eh, I don't want to take the time. Plus, I think you just might enjoy it.)

It brought back something that I had spoken to Robbie and a few others about. Just because we don't hear an actual voice doesn't mean that God isn't speaking to us. God spoke to me a few years ago through bouquets of flowers.

Now, before you start questioning my sanity, let me explain. Four years ago, on September 10th, I was supposed to go with Robbie (my partner) to visit his family in Warren, Michigan for his nephew's birthday and and uncle's funeral. A bi-polar weekend if there ever was one. I had awakened that morning with a stomach ache that progressively worsened throughout the day and decided to not travel with them. I went to bed early that evening.

The next morning I felt slightly better and thought maybe I was just kicking another kidney stone or two around inside of me. Always fun. Nothing like the feeling that someone is simultaneously squeezing and stabbing your kidney. But as Saturday progressed the pain got steadily worse until I finally decided that maybe, just maybe, I should probably go to the hospital. The problem was that I didn't know where to go or who to call. I know, I know! 911! By the time it occurred to me that something was seriously wrong I couldn't think clearly. I finally managed to find a number for someone Robbie worked with whom and whose name I recognized. She and her husband came over to drive me to the hospital. (Carolyn and Cliff, I don't think you'll ever fully understand how wonderful you both are. And not just for helping me that day.)

The plan was for me to meet Carolyn and Cliff at the entrance to the building and they would drive me to a hospital. Robbie worked for the University of Illinois at Chicago at the time and they had provided housing for us on campus in their new residence hall. What I hadn't factored in was the fact that it is almost an entire city block from the front door of that apartment to the elevator leading to the first floor. By the time I made it downstairs I was exhausted.

(Lord, I could use an editor! I am getting to the point of this. I promise.)

We decided that I would go to the UIC hospital. Carolyn dropped me off at the front door with Cliff so she could park the car. I made it as far as the curb. From there the rest of the night is pretty much a blur.

A wheelchair was brought out, I was sent to an exam room then to x-ray, then back to the exam room. And in between was a lot of waiting around for days/minutes - I had no sense of time. During all this I made Carolyn wait until I had a diagnosis before calling Robbie. I didn't want him to panic and worry over something that was probably just kidney stones again. Boy, was I wrong. The next thing I remember was a doctor/intern telling that while I did have kidney stones, that wasn't my problem. An inflamed appendix was. And because it was evidently on the verge of bursting, they would admit me and do emergency surgery. Just before midnight on September 11th, 2004, I was anesthetized and had my appendix removed.

I came to later, hooked up to an IV with a morphine drip. I'm here to tell you that at that point in my life I thought that there isn't anything on this planet better for getting rid of pain than morphine. But you tend to sleep a lot. My best friend Kim had driven up from Indianapolis in the middle of the night to be by my side when I awakened. Robbie came home later that evening after attending his uncle's funeral. (Great weekend for him, huh?) He had called my family in the mean time to let them know.

That day Robbie's mom called the room to see how I was doing, Carolyn stopped by with a paper at some point and Kim was there for most of it. Kim only went home to take care of our 6 month old puppy and then came back to keep me company. And so I slept.

Another day passed before I heard from my own family. Just in case you didn't know, we're not very close. Not for lack of trying on my part. It's just the way it is. Probably has a lot to do with my dad's fatal car accident 35 years ago. My theory is that if they don't get too emotionally involved, then it won't hurt as bad when you are gone.

A few days go by. Robbie's family, friends of mine and even Robbie's boss had sent bouquets to me at the hospital. I remember looking at them thinking how awful it was that nobody in my family had sent anything and I fell asleep crying just thinking about that. Some time later that afternoon I awoke and looked at the flowers again. Only this time I thought, "How incredibly lucky I am to have all those people in my life who care so much about me."

There are times in your life when you know certain things with a clarity you never thought possible... even in a morphine haze. That was one of them. In that moment, I knew without a doubt that while God doesn't always give us what we ask for specifically - a family who shows how much they care. He does give us what we need - a family who shows how much they care. Through Robbie I finally got the family I needed and found that I have friends who will be there for me no matter what. If that isn't what a family is all about, then I don't know what it is.

That was the day that God spoke to me through bouquets of flowers. He was letting me know that while I might not get exactly what I want, He does give me what I need. There have been other times when I've felt his presence or seen him at work. But I think that was one of the most sublime and eloquent ways he has ever spoken to me.

If you've made it this far, let me know when and how God spoke to you. Comments are open.