In the process of giving thanks at the Thanksgiving table, everyone in the family gave thanks for my surgery. However, my surgery only happened because bone spurs had forced the issue. If it hadn’t been for that, I would have had to continue the regimen of shots, therapy, and medications that weren’t working while being in constant pain because the surgery wouldn’t have been judged medically necessary.
As I was looking at a rose bush yesterday, it gave rise to this poem, thanking God for thorns and spurs, for the beauty that arises from pain.
For the jarring
The marring
The scarring
For the spines and the spurs.
For the prodding
The throbbing
The sobbing
For the barbs and the brambles.
For the sticking
The pricking
The stripping
And I thank You, Lord
For the thorns and the thistles.
Commentaires