In the individual confession/absolution service, the last thing the pastor says is the following:

Go in the strength, the peace, and the joy of the Lord, and come soon to receive Christ's body and blood and, being joined to him, live toward the work and the beauty he will fulfill in your for himself and for others. Go, you are free.

The past three days have been rather wretched, full of misery for me. In fact, since early this afternoon, I have been throwing-up because I tried to drink some milk. I believe going without food for as long as I have is beginning to take its toll. So, since milk is my second favorite drink (behind my beloved Dr. Pepper, which I have not had in more than a month now), I thought it might be good to try. Pastor, who had been visiting me, went to get me some. A half-hour later, I started throwing-up. The milk is gone, but the heaves have not stopped. Nor the nausea. Nor the cramps. Nor that awful clammy feeling.

I was sitting here feeling rather desperate when I thought about those words again. I have long understood that what God sees is good is not always what we think of as good. Yet it is, and He is at work in our lives and will perfect that good work until the day of Christ (Philippians 1:6). That has been one of my greatest consolations.

However, tonight, when I think about the ugliness of the past three days, beginning with a rather disastrous time in recovery, that God might actually be seeing that time as one of beauty. It was a time for Him to save me, to protect me, to teach me. It was a time for me to cling to Him, even as I am doing now with my weariness over my rather uncooperative stomach.

Are those not beautiful things?

And then J from the nooner bible study (I shall now call her JW) emailed to tell me that if I were to make it to church, she would let me hold her baby and that, if I wanted, we could sneak into the baby room and she would change my bandage. I wept over such thoughtfulness.

During the 12 days between the stitches ripping open and Thursday's surgery, the open wound on my back did not heal a bit. So, I am on 1,000 mg of a rather strong antibiotic and am supposed to be changing the bandage three times a day for the first week and applying bacitracin each time. Doing so on your own back, especially with constant nausea, is quite difficult. Try as I might not to, I am greatly worried this second incision will not heal as well.

I didn't even have to ask. She just offered!

Despite the darkness, He is caring for me still. Again, is that not beauty?