The words I spoke to the doctor and nurses after they got done working on me.
A nurse said in return, “Honey, it was the doctor who saved your life.”
“True,” I said, “but it was all of you working together.” Then I looked at the doctor and personally thanked him.
I knew and know WHO really saved my life from sudden destruction. No doubt, the way things went down, the perfect timing on everything, the way things played out — I know it was God who saved my life. Still, I wanted to thank the people He used. When I heard during the procedure my heart rate was 32, I thought, “Uh oh, that can’t be good.” They used a pacemaker to bring my heart rate up, just so I could survive the heart cath, that removed the blockages, allowing them to put two stents in. I found out the other night through my sister, that my brother’s heart rate was 30. I think it is safe to say, I was on the edge of death.
Those words, “Thank you, for saving my life,” have echoed in me since I’ve been home. I’ve pondered on it since. Wondering why they keep coming to me. God knows, I was not glorifying man, when I spoke those words. He knew/knows that I thank Him and glorify Him for allowing me to live.
So, I’ve come to the conclusion why those words have stood out. It is because, not once did I wonder what someone’s politics may have been. The very same thing that happened when dealing with my brother last summer with his heart attack. But I had forgotten.
I am going to be brutally honest, here, but hope by the end, the reader will see God’s handiwork, His deliverance. I’ve already said, I believe my anger and rage, helped accelerate my heart attack. The main thing making me mad, was politics. I had reached a point where I knew in my heart, I had no love for anyone, no one at all, who differed in opinion with me. I loathed that part of America who helped put what I believe is a Socialist at the very least, a Marxist Communist at the worst and a closet Muslim, in the White House. It made no difference to me, who they were. I wanted nothing to do with them. And made it very clear to all who knows me. I purposely stayed away from any events, if I thought a flaming liberal was going to be there. I just did not want to have to deal with it, if something along the line of politics were brought up. I did not trust what would come out of my mouth. I have never been one that wanted to hurt people on purpose. But give me a reason, and my words could cut like a knife. I didn’t want a chance of that happening, so I built a wall, which kept me insulated. The whole time, my rage growing like some monstrous dragon. I could not get past it. I asked God to change me, I asked Him to forgive me as I knew it was wrong — but well, still felt justified in that anger. To let go of it, would be a type of weakness, compromise on my part. That’s the way I saw it and nothing was going to change it — until May 9, 2015.
I don’t know the politics of the doctor and nurses. I didn’t care. Their mercy, their work, their concern for my life, transcended any and all preconceived notions, I may have had, if I knew them personally. The wonderful warmth of the blankets thrown upon me, their somber concerned faces looking down upon me with kindness, the gentle way they dealt with me, their complete merciful and compassionate attention for my total well – being, felt like a touch of heaven.
They were not “Republicans” or “Democrats” “Liberals” or “Conservatives” that day. I saw them as God’s instruments to help me and save my life.
My views on politics are still just as strong, but at the end of the day, what does it matter? When we all stand before God, He is not going to be taking notes on what political party we were in. He will be looking at our hearts. Did we receive His Son, while on this earth, as THE Savior, the Redeemer who bought us through His precious blood that we may live forever with Him? In that ambulance, I knew that I had done that back in 1976. But, my life was not where it should have been. I had let anger, rage, bitterness, hatred, unforgiveness rule my life. Simply put — I more or less, kicked Jesus off the throne of my heart some time ago and did not let Him be King and Lord over my emotions.
I had sinned greatly.
But now I am free. How do I know I’ve been set free? One, I believe when a person is truly set free, God takes the shame in such a way, that you are not afraid to say so. That’s one way I have measured it for myself, over the years. Second, and best of all, because Jesus said, “He whom the Son sets free, is free indeed.” I have no doubts what God has done in my heart. He did what no man could do and He went where no man can go; in the deepest blackest heart I have ever known — my very own. He has set me free.
I want to apologize to any and all who may have come here at one time or another and read my hateful and harsh words. I long to be the woman intended me to be. One who is created in His image, not mine.
I since have deleted almost a thousand posts from this blog, reducing the size to only half of the blog that used to be. A lot of them, the videos were missing, some were no longer relevant, some on obama and government health care, some on politics. I am still working on it.
I continue to seek God in this matter, as I want this place to be a place of light and hope to all who come here.