Those of you who know me know my story. For the rest of you reading this, this is the story of how God finally got my attention.
Ever since visiting an orphanage on a mission trip years ago, I had felt the pull to one day adopt a child of my own. I kept putting it off, though. I would adopt when I had a spouse, a better job... On February 3rd, 2009 Jesus made his message loud and clear when my heart stopped during "routine" surgery---
When I awoke from surgery in a haze, the first thing I remember seeing was my daughter's face. I could feel her on my left side as I held her to my heart, an actual physical sensation. So many things were blurry after surgery, and my doctors and mother later told me things that I said in recovery that I do not remember. Yet one thing stands out vividly: that I saw my daughter's face; I'll know it when I see it again. The feeling that came with it was the strongest assurance that I was alive to fulfill God's purpose for my life. This message was as clear as day to me. During recovery, I shared this information with my doctors, nurses and my mother; telling them all of this before I would even open my eyes. According to my mother and doctor, I announced that Jesus was in the recovery room. When a Jewish nurse dismissed my statement, I became louder and argued "No, you don't get it. Jesus is right here with us." As I said this, everyone observed changes on the heart monitor that I was hooked up to due to a now-irregular heartbeat. I do not remember saying any of this. All I remember is seeing my daughter and knowing that I was alive to fulfill my life's purpose- to adopt, and not put it off any longer. (As the nurse was leaving her shift a few hours later, she approached my mother and told her that she'd never seen a patient speak as I had, and that it made her do some thinking.)
It felt like a tremendous feat when I finally opened my eyes. I remember my doctors' faces hovering so close to mine and them telling me that my heart had stopped during surgery. Since I felt warm and free of pain, I asked my anesthesiologist if I was still alive. When he told me yes, I remember saying "good job!" He then got closer and asked me if I remembered anything, which seemed like an odd question at the time, since I was under during surgery. I soon came to realize that he was meaning to ask me if I'd recalled dying in the operating room.
I don't know why I can't remember Jesus' face, or the things I said before I opened my eyes. Maybe we are not allowed or even able to look upon the face of God until our time is come. God is so much greater that He comes to people in forms that are comprehensible: a burning bush, a pillar of fire, a declaration from an angel. If you stood at the base of Mount Everest with your nose to the rock, your field of vision is so small and so limited that all you see is rock. Standing back from heaven's perspective, you can take in its sheer size. I think that I cannot remember Jesus' face because I am meant to be alive. He came to deliver His message and to show me my daughter. Only then was I finally able to open my eyes.
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