Monday, February 12, 2007

It is Well With My Soul

History has it that the late Horatio Spafford penned a very famous gospel song after two extraordinary traumas in his life. First, the great fire of Chicago, (1871) ruined him financially. Then, his four daughters were killed at sea on a cross-Atlantic trip on board ship after a collision with another ship. He found out about their deaths from the now-famous telegraph his wife sent him which simply stated, "Saved. Alone."

After all of this, he was somehow, unbelievably able and inspired to write the following:

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Refrain
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Today Fatima ventured back to the nearby clinic to get her boobs rechecked after an abnormal finding a couple weeks ago. Thank God, the original abnormality was just a flook. A flook. Boobs are fine and dandy and "we'll see you next year for your regular mammography!" said the chirpy radiology tech.

Many praises went up both audibly and silently; however, I doubt that if I had heard bad news, I would have ever been inspired to say anything good. At all. To anyone, about anyone, & especially about God.

Now I've had issues with "perfection" in the past and thought I was pretty much over all that, until I was driving home and something random caused me to remember that song and the story behind it. So now, of course, I have "survivor's guilt" that nothing is wrong with me - and that even if something had been wrong, I would have just been bitter about it. As though nothing bad should ever happen to me. Oh, hell, no.

Fatima is very happy, very appreciative, very thankful - but also very spoiled, and in need of a little spiritual maturity. And a very strong margarita would be good too....

Happy-to-be-alive-Fatima

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Mom told me. She and I are very happy. Now I can go back to coveting your boobs.