When responsibility ends and ministry begins…

I didn’t want to have the procedure but I also couldn’t imagine going back to work and just waiting for it to happen.  We had miscarried our first pregnancy and those were my options.

I reluctantly opted for the procedure.  I couldn’t bring myself to request my anesthesia provider for the procedure.  I didn’t want to have to choose from among friends and I didn’t want to have to explain it.  So, I just showed up the morning of the procedure.

My friend pulled back the curtain and looked surprised.  I had caught her off guard.  Apparently, she was the float person that day.  She was responsible for making sure cases started on time and the anesthesia providers got breaks and lunch.  She had come to start my IV.

We chatted.  I explained why I was there as she started my IV.  She told me who my provider would be.  It was a man and one of the only providers I didn’t know at the facility.

I felt betrayed by my own expectations.  I had assumed one of my friends would do the case since so many worked there.

Debra,  Will you take care of me?  Will you please do my case?

With compassion in her eyes, she agreed.  She hurried back to prepare the room.  She came back a few moments later and walked me down the hall.  I climbed up on the operating room table and laid down.  My arms spread out beside me and strapped down.  She place the blood pressure cuff on my arm, pulse-ox on my finger and slowly placed the EKG stickers on my chest.

I had competing emotions.  I was sad, at the reality of the loss.  Relieved, my friend would care for me. Vulnerable, knowing people I work with would see me completely exposed. Fearful, I would never have a baby of my own.

Slowly she placed the oxygen mask on my face and began pushing the medication through my IV to get me off to sleep.  As she pushed the medication, she knelt down and whispered in my ear.  Dana, I have been right where you are.  But now, I have two healthy children.  One child in middle school and one child in elementary school.

In the moment immediately prior to unconsiousness, my friend had whispered hope in my ear.  She shifted my gaze away from fear, sadness and vulnerability. She offered me hope and it was the last thing I heard.

It’s been sixteen years since she whispered those three sentences into my ear.  Three sentences I will never forget because of the power that came with them.

I have come to realize there is a place where responsibility ends and ministry begins.  Her role was to provide a safe and effective anesthetic for the procedure.  And she did.  But her ministry began when she knelt down and whispered in my ear.

It is a subtle line and often blurred.  But, I hope you will never miss the opportunity.  I hope you never miss the opportunity to minister.  Minister hope, love, compassion, encouragement, strength, faith, etc.  Never miss the opportunity to say yes…and be used by God.