Holy. Holy. Holy. Holy.

In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a throne, high and exalted, and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphs, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another:
       "Holy, holy, holy is the LORD Almighty;
       the whole earth is full of his glory." 

Isaiah 6:1-3

Ah, I love scripture that is set to worship music.  This is one of those songs, and it has special meaning to me.

Two years ago in May I started having stomach pain and vomiting.  It started on May 1, actually, on my way home from the Vera Bradley sale in Ft. Wayne.  It started as just a knot in my stomach.  That was a Thursday.

The next day I was hugely uncomfortable, in a lot of pain.  On Saturday I was able to put on my happy face and attend my brother-in-law's graduation from Ball State.  I was still kind of sore, though, and my stomach just felt . . . weird.  But within a couple of days I felt mostly back to normal.

The next Friday my husband and I went on a date to see a movie and have Japanese food.  The next day I was in so much pain, I didn't think I would be able to stand it.  My husband laid in bed with me, and he could hear my stomach make the noises that were doubling me over in pain.  We finally went to the ER, and though they couldn't find anything with an X-Ray, they kept me overnight for observation and I was sent home on Sunday . . . which was Mother's Day.

By Tuesday I went to my doctor's office, pretty much begging for help.  She gave me a "vomit bag," which I used when the anti-nausea meds she gave me did. not. work.  So she sent me to the hospital, where they ordered CAT scans and such.

Wednesday morning the nurse rushed in, shooed everyone out (thank God for visitors, for their encouragement and mental stability in a time like this), and said that they were prepping me for surgery and the surgeon would explain everything when he got there.

I'll admit, I was scared.  Not of dying, but of the unknown, because we really didn't know what we going on.  I had a nasogastric tube inserted down my nose and a PIC Line sewed in my arm.  The NG tube suctioned out two pitchers full of bile from my stomach.  My friend Tammy was there; as an ER nurse she unofficially took over and led the charge - thank God for her!  She couldn't believe all that they took out of my stomach.  No wonder I had been so sick, she said.  I thought . . . great!  Let's go home!

But not so much.  The surgeon met us in the hallway as they were wheeling me to the O.R. to explain I had a bowel obstruction and everything in my body was . . . backing up.  I'm like, but they just got it all out, why can't I go home now?  His answer was that everything would continue backing up because the obstruction wasn't going away, and they had to do emergency surgery to repair my intestine.  (I hate saying bowel.  Intestine sounds . . . cleaner.  ha ha)  This was a serious situation that required immediate action.

As I'm lying in the bed, being wheeled down the hallway, watching the ceiling tiles go by above me, I started singing:  "I saw the Lord, seated on the throne, exalted.  And the train of His robe, filled the temple with glory!" 

I just kept singing the chorus over and over again, as they continued their preparations in the operating room, stopping to ask one question:  what time it was.  I wanted to be able to ask the time when I woke back up, to know how long it had been, to get maybe have an idea of the success of the surgery.  I didn't pray.  I didn't cry.  I didn't beg God for anything.  I just kept singing that song until I went to sleep:  "Holy.  Holy.  Holy.  Holy.  Holy is the Lamb."

When I woke up, hours later . . . I was still singing that song.  I didn't ask what time it was, I didn't really know what was going on . . . but I was singing that song, and imagining a room that the train of His robe could fill.  And singing, "Holy.  Holy.  Holy.  Holy."

Think you can't memorize scripture?  Sure you can.  Most of our choruses ARE scripture.  Think you don't need to memorize scripture?  Sure you do!  There are time when saying the words are all you can do.  And when you're scared, and you don't even know what to pray, the Holy Spirit does the praying for you:  " In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God's will."  Romans 8:26-27

I just wanted to share that story with you today . . . I hope it encourages you.  Have a great day!