This one is so good it needs no introduction from me.
FACING THE STORM WITHIN
by Alan
It’s quarter past four in the morning. At the end of this empty hospital corridor, I can see the sun rising, but to me it is a false dawn. My wife is in the operating theatre, through the double doors in front of me. After twenty-seven hours in labour, the doctors have decided that the only option left is an emergency caesarean.
I can’t stay with her. It’s not allowed. I have to wait in the corridor. Alone.
Why have they waited so long? Simple: Linda’s platelet count is so low that they’re concerned she might bleed to death. She couldn’t even have an epidural, for the same reason. Now they have no choice. They’ll both die if the doctors don’t operate.
I’m afraid. Afraid they’ll both die anyhow. My beautiful wife and the child she has carried for the past nine months.
A nurse walks past, then stops. Comes back. Puts her hand on my shoulder and says, “They’ll be alright.”
Tears in my eyes, on my cheeks. I can’t answer.
I pray. Wondering if God will even remember who I am, it’s been so long.
Father, please, keep them safe. Keep them safe.
Silence. Sunlight in the empty corridor, but I can’t see it for the darkness of the storm within.
A door opens further down the corridor. A nurse beckons, and I walk to the door, thinking, “She’s smiling. Are they…”
I’m afraid to even think the word. Think that they might, after all, be alive.
I walk through the door and see, bloody, bruised but beautiful, my newborn son.
Thank you Lord.
An hour later, in the recovery room, the first thing Linda sees is our son, in my arms.
The real sunrise, at last.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me…” Psa 23:4
