God pointed out many miracles to me during my convalescence—the garbage men who helped me to the street after I fell, the outstanding surgeon who happened to be on call that weekend and my friend, an operating nurse, who signed up for my surgery and prayed. My daughter who lives locally made meals. Two of my out-of-town daughters came weekends to encourage, help and give my husband a reprieve from cooking and cleaning.
They were all like fragrant flowers in a dark room.
A SPECIAL MIRACLE
But the fragrance of one miracle still lingers. It was an unassuming birthday card from my Virginia daughter. She also gave me a present, but it was the girl superhero on the card that made me pause. I cut her out and attached her to the drawer above my desk. She was the perfect reminder that God wasn’t finished with me yet.
POSTOPERATIVE COGNITIVE DYSFUNCTION
I had spent the first five weeks after surgery sleeping on a recliner because I couldn’t get comfortable in our bed. For two months my mind drifted in a fog triggered by anesthesia and opioids. I later learned that forty percent of people over age sixty-five experience cognitive dysfunction for up to six months after surgery. It even has a name: Postoperative Cognitive Dysfunction.
I had plenty of negatives I could dwell on.
However, my girl superhero was a flower that wouldn’t fade. Every day she showed me something new. The star on her shirt reminded me that my middle grade novel about a boy who runs away on the Underground Railroad, Dark Enough to See the Stars, still has value. Her mask and cape represented her superhero status, and therefore, spoke to me of my calling and identity as an author, speaker and teacher. Finally, she was a child, small, weak and humble. What an ironic superhero. I imagined that she had faith to believe the impossible about herself.
If she could believe, so could I. Joel 3:10 says, “Let the weak say I am strong.” In 2 Corinthians 12: 9 God told the apostle Paul that His grace was sufficient and that His power was perfected in weakness.
The God who seemed so distant in the darkness began to come into focus. I had been aware of his fragrance in those who had helped me,
but now I was seeing His bouquet of promises. My mind was clearing and my strength was returning. Darkness can’t last forever. Dawn always comes in the morning.