Who would have thought that my one breaking heart would be the one thing that healed me and gave me peace?
My heart rate was over 210 beats per minute today, and I staggered to the nurses lounge and eventually to the therapy office. I laid there pale, clenching the booming throb in my chest staring at a fading white ceiling holding on to the little color I could see. This was the second day in a row of pale face and blue lips and people asking about calling a rapid response on me.
I knew it before the twelve leads drew a picture of my heart chambers dilations and contractions. I knew it before my cardiologist came into the room. I knew that I would no longer show normal rhythms with my tachycardia. And the cardiologist agreed. My EKG has changed since my appointment 6 months ago. And there are steps we need to take now. More tests, medicines, appointments, and probably procedures. Nature doesn’t care that I’m 28 years old.
All I know is that lying on that floor today, heaven and Jesus didn’t seem very far away. Eternity felt like it could come in a minute or tomorrow or a year from now.
When I wonder how many heartbeats I have left, other concerns just feel so small.
The opinions of others, the events you’re not invited to, the men not dating you, the aching in your back, the tension in the world. They all lose their power.
Because the only thing that matters is spending time with Jesus and bringing other people closer to Him. And there’s this recognition of misspent energy and emotions, and letting those fall to the wayside.
And yeah, you get dangerous. You reach out to a friend you’ve not talked to in 10 years but seems to be considering faith. You stop fearful-wondering if you’ll be a broken thing and just accept that you are, and if someone loves you, great. If not, no big. You long for more of God’s dreams and less of yours.
And you add to your to-do list to look for some new bras because you don’t need that mortification added to the pain of defibrillation 🙂