My husband and I were visiting a third world country when he fell ill.
I never felt so alone in all my life. I didn't know anyone in this
country and didn't t speak the language. I kept hoping he would start to
feel better. I called out over and over again Jesus, help me, Jesus
help me but he just got worse. Finally I took the decision to call
Reception to ask for an ambulance to take us to hospital.
I packed a few overnight things and our Bible before some of the staff
came for us. The first shock was that there was no means of getting my
husband down from our first floor room except by putting him in a
typist s chair on wheels and wheeling him along to the top of the
stairs where he was lifted precariously down the marble staircase by 4
young waiters. Once outside the hotel they had to lift him up 2 sets of
stone steps to get him up to the main road. Rather than my expected
ambulance I found a battered taxi. Our guide book had warned us not to
use these local taxis but once again I had to put my trust in God to
take us safely to the hospital. I then understood why taxi transport
was discouraged; nevertheless it got us safely to the hospital.
The next shock was that even the hospital had no access ramp for the
battered wheelchair with one footplate missing that had been found
after some delay, so my husband had to be lifted in from the roadside
to the reception area. No one seemed to wear a uniform or speak English
so I didn't have a clue what was happening. Eventually he was wheeled
to another part of the hospital, past someone on a stretcher in a
corridor, to have a CT scan. While this was taking place I became aware
of a young man sitting opposite me in the waiting room. I didn't t know
who he was and wasn't aware that he was from the hotel. He was just
there, with me.
After the scan it was decided to transfer my husband to a private
clinic. Another trip in another battered taxi brought us there. As a
room was being prepared for my husband and myself I noticed that the
same young man was sitting in the waiting room. He said nothing. He was
just a presence with me.
Later, when my husband was safely settled in bed and had been put on a
drip and given medication I brought out my Bible and asked God to show
me a scripture to help me. I opened the book to Habakkuk, not a book I
am familiar with and started to read about all sorts of terrible things
happening and wondered what sort of a message God was giving me. When I
got to the end of the chapter these words jumped off the page at me:
Though the fig tree may not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines; though
the labour of the olive may fail, and the fields yield no food; though
the flock be cut off from the fold, and there be no herd in the stalls-
yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will rejoice in the God of my
salvation. The Lord is my strength
Then I understood that I was not dependent on my own strength but could
trust in God for all the strength I needed. What a blessing that
scripture was to me during that time, and since. My husband made a good
recovery and we were able to continue with our holiday. Just before we
left the clinic the young man suddenly appeared at our door and smiled
at us. He never uttered a word but we said thank you in the language
of the country. We still didn't t know who he was, and it was only when
we returned home that I realized God had sent an angel to sit with me
in a strange land. I thought I was all alone, but I wasn't!
~ Anonymous ~
[ Author: Anonymous (by request) -- March 2010 -- submitted by: Anonymous ]
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