Blessed Be Your Name

One of the funniest parts of helping out our Surgical Team in the OR during the Medical Brigade is listening to groggy patients' comments. This year, one gentleman under heavy anesthesia begged me to scratch his beard for him every two minutes or so, each time rewarding me with "Oooooh, gracias, Cristina. Perfecto!" Another elderly gentleman told me I was a beautiful angel sent from heaven (that was the morphine talking). One lady cried and told me she loved me like a daughter. Being the only Spanish-speaking person definitely had its perks; my self-esteem was boosted with every case! (I accept even narcotic-induced compliments.)

But one patient in particular stood out to me. Freddy is a gentleman in his 40s who attends a Baptist church just outside Progreso, where he participates faithfully by playing piano. This would be his first surgical procedure, and he was understandably nervous. Since I knew him personally, I tried to give him a little privacy as they prepped him to have his umbilical hernia repaired. I busied myself on the opposite side of the room, but the anesthesiologist called me over after a few minutes.

"I think the patient is trying to say something, and I can't understand him."

"Brother Freddy, are you having any pain?" His eyes were a little glazed, but he smiled and continued to talk.

"Wait a minute. He's singing!" I listened a little more closely. The words were a little slurred, but I was definitely hearing "Power in the Blood" (Quite the choice considering his surroundings!).

"He's singing hymns?" The anesthesiologist was surprised. "Well, that's a new one!"

Freddy continued his song until he finally went to sleep.

After the surgery, we bustled about cleaning the room, and sure enough, we heard it again. Freddy was coming to with another hymn! I chuckled as I pushed his bed into the recovery room, hung up the IV bag, and placed the blood pressure cuff on his arm. It was time to really wake Freddy up now.

The anesthesiologist shook him gently as I said, "Brother Freddy, wake up. You've had your surgery." He squinted at me groggily and smiled, "Halleluuuuujah!" Then he continued with his repertoire of favorite hymns as he gradually returned to consciousness.

I was amazed. Singing in surgery! Whoever heard of something like that! What a testimony!

I want to be Freddy. On my darkest day, during my most painful hour, when I can't even see straight, I want to keep my song. I want to praise Him when it's tough. That's when the world will find out what's truly in my heart. Do I really believe what I've been saying on the good days? It takes really bad day to find out. I hope I do as well as Freddy did.

Blessed be Your name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name.
And blessed be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed be Your name.

Every blessing you pour out
I'll turn back to praise.
And when the darkness closes in, Lord,
Still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord.
Blessed be Your name.
Blessed be the name of the Lord.
Blessed be Your glorious name.

Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's all that it should be
Blessed be Your name.
And blessed be Your name
When the road's marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name.

You give and take away,
You give and take away,
My heart will choose to say,
Lord, blessed be Your name.

-"Blessed be Your Name" by Matt Redman
3 Responses
  1. Kathy Says:

    As I recall my antics and your daddy's coming out of surgery (asking whether it was a boy or girl!) I guess we're both full of bologna! YOU be the spiritual one in the family and sing hymns for us clowns!

    Another great blog, Christine!

    Love you!

  2. Ricky Says:

    The lady was right. You are "a beautiful angel sent from heaven"... and I'm not under the influence of drugs... at this time.

    That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death; - Phil. 3:10

  3. Gwen Says:

    Beautifully written! Songs are a great source of comfort during those tough times. That has been the case in my life many times.

    Love you,

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