Down to the River to pray | Sheila's Corner Studio

Day 2. 6 x 6 watercolor on yupo. © 2015 Sheila Delgado

I have waited for this day for over ten years. Surgery day. Thursday, July 11th. Check in at 6 am. Surgery at 8 am. I will be so happy when this is done, and I can come home.

Spending a week in Phoenix. Over 110 degrees the next four days. But Awww, I will be stuck indoors. LOL. 🙂 Hoping to only be in the hospital for two or three days, and then home to recuperate. If all is well at my Post-Op appointment I will head up the hill to my bed and my favorite paintings from friends, on Tuesday.

My last meal was scrambled eggs and fruit this morning. Had broth later, and as much water as I want. I am big on water. Very happy I am allowed to have some up until two hours before the surgery. Very happy indeed. The hardest part for me will not be going without food. I dread not being able to have water. But I will be asleep soon enough, so no worries.

So thankful, for your prayers and well wishes, I dearly appreciate them. 🙂
I am blessed to know you!

Dear Lord, grant me joyful acceptance of the surgery which awaits me,
and let this be the relief and cure which I seek.
Make skilled the work of the surgeon and that of his team
for it is unto their knowledge and skill that I give myself for healing.
I pray to you Lord, that this procedure will be without complication,
and that my recovery will be speedy and complete.
Amen.

I don’t know a soul in New York. I only visited the city once. I remember exactly where I was when the plane hit the first tower. I remember who I was with. I remember at work that day. We were numb. We were in tears. We were huddled together trying to make some sort of sense out of the incomprehensible.

We bought several copies of each of the daily papers, hungry for facts. Hoping to hear of survivors, praying for miracles.

I remember in the days after, the silence in the sky. I will never forget that. Having lived in Southern California for so many years I am accustomed to the sounds of flight. Jets training at Miramar. The sounds of a military presence. The sounds of safety. Living in Wildomar, I can sometimes hear the sounds of artillery. Training of America’s finest just over the hill.

I have been in tears many times today. Watching 9-11 replayed on TV. I don’t remember each detail of the events on that day. I don’t know all the names of those who were lost. And I do not want to forget. I want us to always remember.

I remember how I felt. When I see those images, it all comes flooding back.

Praying for the families of those who were lost, not so very long ago.