After several minutes of encroaching claps of thunder, the strength of the storm erupted in the early hours of our Sunday morning in Kansas. A hammering of rain came in surging strains, ratcheting against the glass and walls. Water drove in through the cracks in the second-floor door that opens out over the flat-roofed porch, leaving a small pool in the kitchen below. A much larger pool blew in around the storm cellar door into the basement. All in all, nothing to compare to the damage done in other places, but unsettling, nonetheless
An omen of sorts, I suppose, to the copy machine that wouldn’t work at church, the printer that wouldn’t print, the lyrics to the praise song left at home, but beyond all that, the phone call from my daughter in Kentucky during Bible study classes.
She’d had an emergency C-section on Tuesday, two blood transfusions on Wednesday. She and the baby had gone home on Friday. Now, after two days of acute soreness in her calf muscle, Susan was experiencing shortness of breath. “Get to the hospital,” I told her, recognizing the symptoms of DVT and the likelihood of a blood clot that had moved to the lungs
We prayed for her at church and made it through the singing and the preaching. At home, I checked for flights from Kansas City to Louisville. Nothing available that would get me there before the next day. I decided to stay and wait for further news from Susan.
When it came, late afternoon, the news was good: no blood clot. Exhausted but relieved, she went back home to the baby.
I believe, but can’t prove, that the Lord took mercy on Susan (and the rest of us) and dissolved the clot. Whether that be the case or not, I will thank him and give him praise. And I will pray that the ending of this week will be far more restful and relaxing than its beginning.