Lucky Stroke?

My athletic mom achieved four holes-in-one. But my stroke wasn’t on the golf course…

“It’s small,” the doctor said. “Only 3.5 mm,” she said. (I’m from the generation that thinks in inches, so I googled it: ⅛ inch.) Surprise, worry, and questions all tumbled together–like soggy laundry in a dryer.

Surprised, I always believed I’d live somewhere between my daddy’s departure age–87, and my mom’s–94. A possible stop at the brink of 81 seemed too soon. After all, I was a late bloomer: I didn’t even start drinking coffee until I was 71. 

Questions flooded my mind: How serious is a ⅛” stroke? How serious should I be about dropping 15 pounds? Am I soon to face living from a wheelchair? Wide swipes of my history deleted from my memory? Pizza and other favorites processed in a blender?

I’m not afraid of dying. Still, good-byes hurt. The ones left behind suffer the most. I’ve sat beside the hospice bed of the dearest people on the planet: My first husband, my mother, and, just two years and a couple of months ago I held my precious daughter’s hand as she left for heaven. 

And then there is Greg. Both of us had been missionaries, both of us lost our first mates, and now have been happily married for 45 months. We both know the pain of being left alone. I want to do all I can to stay with Greg on this side of Heaven’s golden door.

Each time, my pain over my losses has been softened by the reality of Heaven. A Jesus-follower since age 8, I am “confident, yes, well pleased rather to be absent from the body and to present with the Lord.” (2 Cor. 5:8, NKJV) 

Strange, but my mini-stroke, like Cinderella’s first gong of midnight, has awakened my attention. With whatever time I have left, I repurpose to:

• Believe unhesitantly

• Forgive freely

• Give hilariously

• Laugh heartily 

• Live joyfully

• Love lavishly

• Obey quickly

• Pray fervently

• Read daily

• Relax intentionally 

• Serve quietly

• Sing happily

• Smile broadly

• Yield continually

“Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.” (Psalms 139:16, ESV)

It is enough that God knows the number of my days. He knew even before I arrived on the planet. He alone knows my day of departure. The best news yet: no matter when the curtain closes, God’s Word guarantees I'll be Fully Alive on Arrival! 

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