Wednesday, March 9, 2016
“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” ― Albert Einstein
Don’t know if any of you know this, but it is a true account. In January, when I arrived by air ambulance in Nairobi at Aga Khan Hospital, it was critical that I receive a new implanted defibrillator and new lead (wire into my heart so I would have two) as the old lead is over twenty years old. I was told I could die in the next week without the surgery. They had me scheduled for surgery on a Friday when they shut the surgery down at four in the afternoon and wouldn’t open again until Monday morning. I was scheduled for the last surgery of the day as they took those who would most certainly die very soon ahead of those who might die in the next week. I didn’t care, but there was a big problem. The people supplying the device and the lead wouldn’t send them to the surgery unless they were paid for in advance. My son and his wife had the money, but their bank wouldn’t send it with a phone or online delivery instruction—it had to be in person. Unfortunately, their bank didn’t open until 9:30 A.M. on Friday (New York time) which was 5:30 P.M. Nairobi time. It was going to take a miracle to get me into surgery on Friday and if not, another miracle to get me to Monday morning still alive. We got our miracle albeit from a very unexpected source. Around three in the afternoon, a Somali tribal elder (who had been a doctor at Aga Khan Hospital) was dying of a heart problem, he knew it, knew he couldn’t be saved, but wanted to die in the operating room of the hospital he had served. He made it to the OR before he died, but as he was a Somali elder, he was accompanied by about a hundred of his fellow tribesmen. He died around 3:30 P.M. and by the time they got his body removed, got the hundred grieving tribesman out of the hospital, and got the operating room clean again, it was almost five o’clock in the afternoon. The chief surgeon had three people prepped and waiting (and these were critical), so he decided just to do all the surgeries scheduled for that day no matter how late they had to stay. Happily, by that time, the money had been transferred, the device delivered, and my operation began at 8:00 P.M.—four hours after the surgery was supposed to have been shut down. I was just happy to have a new lease on life and was sorry for the death of the Somali elder, but God does work in mysterious ways. I guess if God is for you, who can be against you? In a movie, we wouldn’t have believed this story, but it happened. I am thankful, grateful, and intend to show my thanks by continued and renewed service. How do you thank God for the many times He delivers you?