I had my gallbladder taken out today. All in all it was a very easy surgery, but, having never had surgery before, I was understandably nervous.
Normally, I'm relatively private about my religion, mainly because I don't know that I present the best portrait of a Mormon. I don't attend meetings, I have a foul mouth (which I have been working on), and I can be just as crass as a sailor on leave. But I do have a firm belief in the fundamental principles of the faith. One thing I have a very serious reverence for is the power of the Priesthood. I've seen it work with my own eyes in the most profound ways. So, this morning, when I dropped Walker off with my brother in law before the surgery, I asked him to give me a blessing. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with an LDS blessing, it's when an Elder of the church, holding the Melchizdek Priesthood, lays his hands on your head and uses the power of the Priesthood to say a special prayer over you.
Chris has been kind enough to do this for me in the recent past, when I had Walker, and also for my husband when he had surgery. And this morning, in the middle of my blessing, unbidden, I thought "I should totally blog about this." Which, to me, seems like a strange, if not irreverent, thing to think in the middle of a prayer. I don't know if my mind was just wandering or if I was being prompted to share my feelings about blessings, but I haven't been able to get the idea out of my head all day, so I'm going to assume it's the latter.
Every time I've asked for a blessing, I've been in some kind of distress and, frankly, very afraid. They've always been held in my esteem as very private and sacred moments, not to be taken lightly. But the one thing I felt I should share, the prompting I feel I was given, is the feeling of peace that comes over me the moment the Elder's hands lay upon my head. This morning I was particularly frightened. Not that there was ever much of a chance of anything going drastically wrong, but there's always a part of me that thinks of the "what ifs." And this time, the biggest what if, the thing that scared me the most was "what if I die and leave my baby motherless." Now, logically I know that gallbladder surgery is a very routine procedure, but in my defense, Walker had been up most of the night with a fever, so I was pretty sleep deprived myself, and I have a tendency to be much more melodramatic than normal when I'm tired.
But the moment Chris put his hands on my head, a warm feeling of peace filled me and I knew everything was going to be all right. The only thing I can compare it to is being wrapped in a cozy blanket during a winter storm. It may be cold and icy and scary outside, but inside it's warm and safe and comfortable. The words he spoke whispered to the very deepest part of me that everything would turn out as it should and that my family and I would be safe. I knew, without a doubt, that whatever happened, God was watching over me and my family.
That's what I love about God: that he can overlook all the things I've done that have not brought me, or Him, honor and still extend his loving care over me. Maybe it's just the Loritab talking. But I feel truly blessed right now to have that knowledge and the faith that I've been taught, and I wanted to share that thought.