I woke up last Tueday with a stomache. “It’ll pass,” I thought. It did- with the help of a surgeon. I had appendicitis.
Now, I know appendendectomy is a minor surgery. The doctor made it sound like he could do one in his sleep. Given how late it was, he very well may have. But it’s still not how I planned to spend my week. I had plans! Things to do! Well…no I didn’t. Neither did my wife or my kids. Everyone’s plans got tossed in the air. Some landed and things turned out fine. Some crashed and failed. Whatever. None of the stuff that did or did not get done concerns me in the least.
What concerns me is how quickly it happened. In twenty four hours I went from feeling fine to surgery. Twenty four hours. That’s it. And you want to know what’s really scary?
All too often, it happens even faster than that.
People leave for work and die in the car on the way. They take one wrong step and break their hip. Never mind any day, it can happen at any moment. I have faith. I am convinced there is a God who loves me and cares for me and always will. Always. But I’d be an idiot to not be a little afraid of what could happen, and how quickly it can happen. Right?