Monday, April 13, 2009

Easter Blues

It's great to see the daffodils and the bluebells, and sniff the scent of gentle vanilla from the gorse bushes anouncing Spring has really sprung. And a later Easter than usual has produced glorious weather too. Time to be out and about, walking the beaches, running after the little dog, just enjoying the wonder of God's creative genius.

So what did I do? I got sick(er) and was admitted to hospital, that's what. Would you believe it? We had just enjoyed the stirring Good Friday songs and hymns with our good friends out in the country chapel at Zion Christian Fellowship, and welcomed Matthew on a brief visit with his latest girlfriend Sarah (who is an absolute delight - he couldn't have done better) and I started to boil up and yuckify into an attack of cholangitis.

There I was on Easter Day, waking up on a surgical ward to the smell of poo, wee and socks, tied to a drip pole and feeling like I had just been run over by a truck. I fumbled in my black bag to see what Diane had hastily thrown in for me, and grabbed my iPod. 'Ah good,' I thought, 'I will listen to some stirring worship songs in my earphones.' But no go, my iPod was as dead as a dodo. How did St John the Divine manage to be 'in the Spirit on the Lord's Day' without an iPod? So, I tried to tune my liitle radio for a broadcast - the batteries were flat.

Well, I thought, God's people are gathering in their millions around the earth to celebrate the risen Lord and I'm not going to let this get me down. I began just to praise Him in my heart - and then I found that He was with me! Yes - you wouldn't credit it! No iPod, no radio, no Bible, no church and me as sick as a parrott surrounded by human debris, tormented by pain and He was with me. Don't ask me how, but for a moment my faith was stirred by His presence, and a bit of His joy dripped into my arm and onward to my sore heart.

I'm not going to say it was a miracle. It was just a relief that when they came to check me out that particular storm had passed, my fevers had subsided, and though still in pain I was well enough to go home and have at least a little bit of Easter Monday with Diane. When I think about it, it just makes sense that He would want to be in a surgical ward on Easter Day. After all, if the grave could not hold Him there's no telling where He might turn up, is there?