One year ago today, something in me changed, leaving a noticeable scar. Thinking back, I defintely had my priorities mixed. While others worried about – well, whatever you worry about when someone goes in for surgery – I was worried about how big the scar would be and how horribly obvious it was going to be carrying “this” with me for the rest of my life. Oh silly me. Thankfully, all went well, and although they didn’t quite see what they originally thought they would, God blessed those surgeons with enough wisdom to get the job done. Since the surgery, I really haven’t felt any “better”, but considering how I never really showed signs or symptoms anyways, that’s probably not a surprise. I remember wondering if there was even a point in going through with the procedure…was what I gained more than what I lost…the answer – yup, you bet.

I haven’t thought about this for a long time, but today while driving home (in light of yesterday being Valentine’s Day) I was thinking about the idea of LOVE, and how I’ve started to really see and appreciate how all forms of love relationships should simply be different modes for us to see 1 thing more clearly – God. The unconditional love between a parent and a child, romantic love between a man and a woman, the relational love between sisters, brothers, and friends…all of these have been placed in our lives so that we can ultimately learn what it means to know that God loves us, and for us to act out whatever bit of love we understand towards, and for Him…anyways, that was a sidebar thought which I’ll maybe eloborate on another day…my apologies, I digress. Back to the story.

So about a week after my surgery, my dad shared with me the story of a woman from our church who actually had a similar procedure done a few days after I did. Unfortunately, she experienced some post-op complications and passed away shortly after. I remember hearing this and thinking about how the two of us sorta started at the same spot, but ended up with completely different endings… what was this all supposed to mean, I asked myself quietly. I came up with a conclusion somewhere along the lines of this: If God has chosen to continue my life, then there must be a reason behind it, so I better figure out what it is and do what I’m supposed to do, because what I have now should never be taken for granted.

So today, as I think back and reflect on an event in my life story that happened 365 days ago, God has blessed me again by reminding me that there is a purpose behind everything that happens in His perfect timing and in His perfect plan – it’s really just a matter of whether you’re willing to acknowledge and live this out with each breathe of life that He chooses to give you…