You know when people describe surreal, almost “out of body” experiences?  I think I had one of those today.

It felt like something out of a movie.  The surgeon walked into the room, greeted me with a handshake and sat in the chair across from me.  The moment he sat, as if on queue, thunder clapped its hands in stormy applause.

We both looked at each other with raised brows and I smiled nervously.  Rain pelted the window with wild and crazy rhythm…somewhat mimicking the racing metronome of my own heartbeat.

Surgery.  Just the word makes me feel anxious from the inside-out.  Nobody wants to have surgery.  (Even those seeking cosmetic enhancement don’t necessarily desire surgery itself…just the outcome.)  It’s never convenient to have surgery.  Minor to major, it’s time away from routine, work, exercise, and oh by the way, it’s not cheap-even with insurance.

So I sat there, somewhat attentive and nodded my head in a daze-like trance.  He went on to describe the “smile-like incision” (as if calling it “smile-like” should make me feel better?) he would make on my throat and quipped a funny line about deserving a new pearl or diamond necklace to cover my scar.

I haven’t told a large number of people about this.  (Until now, that is.)  Mainly because I haven’t been able to talk about it-really talk about it without crying.  And any time I’ve mentioned it straight-faced to a friend, I’ve cried in my car afterwards.

It’s not just the surgery itself that makes me feel emotional.  Though I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared out of my mind.  But it’s more how I’m feeling about God right now that causes the tears to fall….sad, disappointed, angry, frustrated…wondering where He is in all of this.  Yes, all of this.

“Because is it not enough, Lord?  Has my body not been through enough already?”  This is an ongoing conversation I’m having with Him these days…and then I proceed to remind Him of my list of diagnosis’.  As if He’s forgotten.

Cancer, cardiomyopathy (though stable at this time, my cardiologist likes to remind me that I am at risk for “sudden cardiac death” and that I “may need a heart transplant in the future”), ovarian failure and premature menopause (its fun by-products being hot flashes, debilitating migraines, anxiety, night sweats, fatigue…and it makes me sad that I will never know what it feels like to be pregnant.)  I’m also 3 months in with mono and though I have mostly kept up with life, I still don’t feel like myself.

And now this.

OR…and then I tell God how unfair it is that I have an absent father and that I’m still single at 37.  And a half.  (Because, if I have to go through one more thing, couldn’t I at least have my person beside me?)

I say, “I tell God” when what I really mean is, “I yell at God.”  Because, if we’re being honest, this is what my prayers have become.

And then I immediately feel ashamed and guilty…because though I feel I’ve had my fair share of challenges in life, I also know I am not owed anything.  I know the question is never, “Why me?” so much as it is “Why NOT me?”  I deserve way worse than all of this and then some…because though I try to be good, my heart is still sinful and in desperate, daily need of a Savior.  And lastly, I know it can always, always be worse.  Someone, somewhere has it way worse than I do…

So I cry even harder, because I feel like my heart is in a tug-of-war with what I know to be true and with what I’m really feeling on the inside.  I don’t want to be frustrated with God anymore.  I want to be okay with life as it is.

I wrote a piece a while back about being mad at God.  It was therapeutic and I’ve since re-read it as a reminder to myself.  But I still struggle with where I’m at spiritually.  Is this what a “dark night of the soul” feels like?

One thing I do know is nights always end and mornings always begin.  I know this because morning frequently comes too early and I’m never ready to leave the comfort of my bed.  So this makes me think about what happens when I’m sleeping…

A lot could be said of the dark.  It can be scary, vulnerable, and a little too quiet.  But darkness is optimal for good sleep.  And when we sleep, dear reader, we heal.  Scientific studies prove this, which is why adequate sleep is necessary for a healthy mind and body.  Aside from preventative benefits, what does every doctor say when we’re sick?  “Get plenty of rest.”

Could it be then, that the ‘dark night’ is actually restorative?  We may get up in the middle hours so to speak, and try to feel our way down black hallways.  But there comes a point-and I feel I’ve reached it-when we’ve become so spiritually tired, we just collapse out of sheer exhaustion.  There comes a point when we’ve simply had enough.

I’ve been asking myself and my Father just what to do with this….

I wonder…..Maybe we could lay our hearts down.

Yes.  We could lay our hearts down and reach for covers, fluffing pillows just so.  We could close our soul-eyes and just be in the presence of rest, surrendering to the soundness of sleep.

And as we surrender, we allow the Redeemer to redeem…the Keeper to keep…the Healer to heal.