My Own Dense Wood

"The Lord GOD is my strength, and He has made my feet like hinds' feet, and makes me walk on my high places."

Habakuk 3:19

I have been reading the Christian classic, Hinds Feet On High Places. If you're not familiar with the story, it is an allegory. It tells a triumphal tale of little Much-Afraid, who must choose to follow her Shepherd to the beautiful High Places or stay among her vile relatives and continue in her cozy little white cottage in the village of Much-Trembling.

Choosing to follow the gentle, loving Shepherd, Much-Afraid agrees to leave the Valley of Humiliation and begin her journey, one which will cause her to develop hinds' feet. Her new feet will cause her to soar in love above voices of fear and dread.

She endures along her way. She even makes it through many treacherous crags with faith and grace given her by the Shepherd. After making it through jagged cliffs, Much-afraid is led by Him to the dark, dense forest of the unknown. She immediately hears icy voices that challenge her faith. One voice, Craven Fear, who wants to be her first love, taunts and teases her, seeks to sow seeds of doubt in her heart. Begs her return to what she knows.

I had just sat down at the computer Sunday evening, having recovered from achy fatigue and a migraine headache that kept me from church that night. His voice summoned me to our den. "My heart is beating so fast." Jeff's voice sounded alarmed, and complaints from him are rare.

"What's going on?" I asked, alarmed at his words. "I don't know," he replied. "My heart just feels like it's beating really fast. I suggested a visit to the ER; my gracious husband stubbornly declined. After a while, Jeff said he felt better, and we ate BLT''s and potato salad.

I am a slow eater. Jeff eats quickly. He seemed relaxed as he watched television while I finished my meal. Suddenly, with distress of spirit, Jeff held his chest and voiced pain. "It feels like my heart is about to burst out of my chest."

I was jolted. I wanted to call 911. He said, "No. no." I told him most firmly that he had to go to the emergency room. He finally obliged. Insisted we drive. So, I dressed. Hurriedly. Grabbed purse. We made haste to the car. Drove as safely as we could to the hospital, thanking God it was only three minutes away.

Post-haste was the nurses response. An EKG was done. From the corner of my right eye, I saw a nurse leave the triage quietly, and perceived her then running response down the hallway as a sure sign something was so wrong.

Dear husband was rolled into a room where an assembly of medical staff awaited to quickly wire him up. They began probing, sticking, and arranging him on a bed.

I sat in a chair beside. Felt my own heart pound. Sensed that tight knot that grips your throat and belly with chill. Watched. Waited. Wondered. Prayed. And prayed. Prayed that inside prayer one and God alone hears, understands. Desperation had made its way to me. Fear took his icy fingers and wrapped them around my knowing soul.

The doctor asked, "Where's the crash cart?" Nurses assured it was near.

Another jolt. This one went deeper. Jabbed. Stuck. Hurt. Felt like a threatened abyss.

"Be strong. Trust. Pray. Believe. Know. Rest. Find your hinds' feet. They are there. Don't cry. Jeff needs you steady." Such words I said to self. Over and over they whirled in my spirit along with fear, pain, hollow, and hope.

I watched those in green and white work their work on he who was to them any unknown afflicted but to me was my one and only. Who takes care of me. Comforts. Cares. Always. Keeps. Prays. Seeks my best. Lends me strength. Causes me courage. Hears my heart. Holds my hand.

I thought about the mutability of life. The abruptness of change. The inability to control. How pain comes out of nowhere and smacks you right in the face and determines to take your life and knock you out.

With placid trust, yet nagging fear I sat, and at once, felt relief when his heart rate slowly drifted down. With its slow ebb, I, too, wafted into guarded peace.

I listened to the doctor's words. Heard his summation. Savored each word to be sure to absorb their meaning and succeed in their recitation to my sons, whom I knew would be soon shaken.

Knowing Jeff was better, now OK, I left to call Steven and Chris, dreading to speak, yet anxious to bear my soul and share my fear.

"We don't know." I tried to sound calm. Did not want my voice to crack. Did not want my heart to wince. "It could be a heart attack. He may have a blockage. They know he has some problems with the electrical circuits of his heart. We'll know more after more tests. I'll call back in a few hours."

You who have experienced that waiting time know its agony. I prayed. Sat. Stirred. Regarded Jeff's stillness. Prayed. Sought. Stirred. Wondered. Watched nurses faces as they moved in and out the room.

Four hours passed. Good news. It was not a heart attack. Yet, it still could be a blockage. Jeff will have further tests next week.

With thankfulness, with comfort, with post-knowledge I rest today. Still concerned, but encouraged as my dear husband now seems himself. He reassures me all will be OK. We will soon find out more about the ventricular tachycardia, the likely culprit of this shivery experience that has left us stunned from its suddenness.

I covet your prayers during this time. I so need hinds' feet that I may skip and soar and be what I most need to be for my precious husband. I so desire, more than life itself, more than any language could express, more than any material blessing I could ever receive, Jeff's health and complete healing.

I appreciate my blogging friends and the strength I know to receive from your prayers. God is faithful. We are in His hands. He will not fail us and cannot forget us. Please remember Jeff. I love you all so very much and know your faith and, even more, know the power of praying women changes lives. Thank you in the dear name of Jesus Christ.