I thanked God that morning for the water-stained ceiling tiles. They were as much a miracle to me as a clear blue sky. When I opened my eyes after a fitful night\u2019s sleep and saw them above my hospital bed, I knew I was still alive. I was pretty sure there were no ceiling tiles in heaven.<\/p>\n
I was 39 years old, and wasn\u2019t likely to live out the week, much less see 40. As the morning dragged on, my family and the parishioners of my church came in and out of my room, praying for my recovery.<\/p>\n
Prayer was all I had left. It was Franny, one of my older congregants, who seemed to have the most faith in the impossible.<\/p>\n
\u201cPastor Dave, I\u2019m not sure what this means, but you will find the Lord to be a shield around you\u2026that\u2019s in the Bible somewhere, or maybe a hymn. I just know he wanted me to tell you that.\u201d<\/p>\n
I recognized the phrase, from one of David\u2019s psalms: \u201cYou are a shield around me, O Lord.\u201d But those kinds of miracles, the big biblical ones? They just didn\u2019t apply today.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d come through the worst of my battle with acute myeloid leukemia, just completed my final round of chemo. Through it all, my wife, Sheri, stood by me, wearing a hospital gown and a mask to protect my compromised immune system.<\/p>\n
It looked like I was going to be okay. The oncologist was pleased with my latest test results. I\u2019d even been able to dance, briefly, with our daughter in my hospital room just before she\u2019d left for the prom. Then something happened that made it all for naught\u2013my appendix burst.<\/p>\n
Sheri was at our son\u2019s soccer game when she got the call. My white blood cells were depleted from the chemo\u2013I couldn\u2019t fight infection. My platelet count was low\u2013my blood wouldn\u2019t clot. In other words, surgery was not an option. And without it, the poison flooding my body would be fatal.<\/p>\n
The doctors inserted a tube into my abdomen, hoping to drain off some of the toxins. But it would only buy me hours, not the weeks I needed to build up the strength to survive an appendectomy. Sheri raced to the hospital and told everyone we knew to come, come now.<\/p>\n
A procession of visitors murmured their prayers, said goodbye. Except Franny. She was so sure of the message she\u2019d received. I didn\u2019t have the heart to tell her otherwise.<\/p>\n
The nurses doped me up to keep me comfortable. I lost track of time. Soon, the sun had set again. My visitors left. Sheri went home to look after the kids.<\/p>\n
Holy Spirit is a Catholic hospital, and Scripture readings are broadcast over the PA system at the beginning and end of each day. I could no longer hear those words of hope. In seminary, I learned that fear is not an emotion\u2013it\u2019s a spirit. And this evil spirit spoke louder.<\/p>\n
I pictured Sheri sitting alone at home, mustering all her courage to hold the family together. I saw my daughter in her wedding gown, walking down the aisle without me. I saw our sons playing pickup football, no one to cheer them on. \u201cYou are gone, they are alone,\u201d the spirit whispered.<\/p>\n
I countered it with all I had, Franny\u2019s strange message and David\u2019s prayer at the forefront of my mind. \u201cYou are a shield around me, O Lord,\u201d I said aloud. I repeated it over and over until I was able to sleep.<\/p>\n
I woke up the next day and saw the ceiling tiles. The day after that too. My doctors and nurses knew of only one case where anyone with cancer like mine survived a burst appendix for so long.<\/p>\n
When I passed the one-week mark, a social worker said they were sending me home, but that I\u2019d have to come in every few days for blood tests to see if I was strong enough for surgery. There was no guarantee I would be.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I treasured every moment with my family. Sheri read to me in bed. I played piano with the kids, and we sang, talked and laughed until I couldn\u2019t keep my eyes open. I even spent time with our dog, cuddling on the sofa.<\/p>\n
Laying my hands on my children\u2019s heads, I prayed for them as if it were the last time I could. \u201cLord, let all heaven break loose upon them as they fulfill their destinies.\u201d<\/p>\n
Each morning, Sheri helped me out of the shower and I stared in the mirror at the tubes hanging out of my chest, the ports from chemotherapy. I looked like the \u201cTerminator\u201d on a bad day.<\/p>\n
Somehow, though, I made it six weeks. My platelet levels normalized. The surgeon prepared me for the operation. \u201cI\u2019m going to do an exploratory procedure,\u201d he said. \u201cWe need to see what damage has been done.\u201d<\/p>\n
Through the fog of anesthesia, I remembered David\u2019s words. Why those? Franny wasn\u2019t sure what they meant, and neither was I. But that passage had sustained me, like provisions during a desolate winter. You are a shield around me.<\/em><\/p>\n I opened my eyes to the hospital ceiling tiles, Sheri squeezing my hand. The surgeon came in, holding some five-by-seven-inch glossy photos taken from inside my lower abdomen. \u201cHave you ever had an operation before?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n \u201cOnly my tonsils,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve never seen anything like this,\u201d the surgeon said. He held up one of the photos. It just looked like blobs to me.<\/p>\n \u201cHere is your appendix, what\u2019s left of it,\u201d he said, pointing with his pen. \u201cBut surrounding it\u2026is a kind of tent, composed of adhesions.\u201d He made a circle. \u201cIt\u2019s the strongest kind of scar tissue there is. We normally see it only after someone has surgery.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n The surgeon fumbled for the right words. \u201cAll the toxins were contained within this structure. These adhesions, they acted almost like\u2026tiny shields, tightly packed together.\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019ll never know why my life was spared, not while I\u2019m here on earth. That\u2019s what heaven is for. For now, I enjoy my family, my friends, the blue sky. I\u2019m not ready to see beyond the ceiling tiles quite yet.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I thanked God that morning for the water-stained ceiling tiles. They were as much a miracle to me as a clear blue sky. When I opened my eyes after a fitful night\u2019s sleep and saw them above my hospital bed, I knew I was still alive. I was pretty sure there were no ceiling tiles […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":29893,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"ep_exclude_from_search":false,"footnotes":"","_ppma_block_editor_authors":"","_wpscppro_dont_share_socialmedia":false,"_wpscppro_custom_social_share_image":0,"_facebook_share_type":"","_twitter_share_type":"","_linkedin_share_type":"","_pinterest_share_type":"","_linkedin_share_type_page":"","_instagram_share_type":"","_medium_share_type":"","_threads_share_type":"","_google_business_share_type":"","_bluesky_share_type":"","_mastodon_share_type":"","_selected_social_profile":[],"_wpsp_enable_custom_social_template":false,"_wpsp_social_scheduling":{"enabled":false,"datetime":null,"platforms":[],"status":"template_only","dateOption":"today","timeOption":"now","customDays":"","customHours":"","customDate":"","customTime":"","schedulingType":"absolute"},"_wpsp_active_default_template":true},"categories":[246],"tags":[51,212,151,72,80,204],"ppma_author":[869],"class_list":["post-22498","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-healing","tag-inspirational-stories","tag-leukemia","tag-mysterious-ways","tag-stories-of-faith","tag-stories-of-hope","tag-survival-stories"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n