Dining at an upscale French restaurant, I tried to enjoy myself. But between bites of filet mignon and asparagus with hollandaise sauce, I couldn’t help but ponder what tomorrow would bring. Will this be my last meal? I worried when I thought about the risky cervical spinal fusion surgery I was scheduled for first thing the next morning, to deal with an injury I’d suffered in a car accident. My husband Russ had taken me out for a Valentine’s dinner early, since I would be stuck in the hospital on the actual Valentine’s Day.

That is, if I’m still alive by then, I thought with an overwhelming sense of dread.

Russ must have seen my anxiety written all over my face. “Honey, try to enjoy yourself tonight and not worry about tomorrow. Try not to be afraid. Remember how we prayed for peace today?”

 

Sure, I remembered. But I didn’t feel any peace yet. I just nodded with a weak smile and took a bite of mashed potatoes.

 

“Care for some chocolate cake?” asked an older man at a nearby table, pulling me out of my thoughts. He grinned at us from behind a huge, gourmet birthday cake. “My wife and I can’t possibly eat all this by ourselves.”

 

“Thanks,” I replied. “I’m kind of feasting before a fast and your cake looks delicious.”

 

“A fast?” the man asked.

 

“Yes,” I answered glumly, “I’m not allowed to have breakfast tomorrow because I’ll be having surgery at Loudoun Hospital.”

 

“Really?” The man’s blue eyes brightened. “I have a medical practice adjacent to Loudoun Hospital. Who’s your surgeon?”

 

“Dr. Francisco Ferraz. He’s very nice, but I’m just so nervous,” I blurted.

 

“Well, there’s no need to be,” the doctor answered. “Francisco is one of my best friends. And I’m not the only one who’s impressed by his surgical skills. He’s even designed his own instruments so he can be as precise as possible.”

 

“Really? I didn’t know that,” I said in grateful surprise.

 

The doctor spent several minutes relating more encouraging details about my surgeon that few people other than his friends would have known. And his words settled like a healing ointment over the wounds of my anxieties.

 

God had arranged our meeting in the restaurant, and I knew He would arrange everything else I needed, too. Dr. Ferraz and I prayed before the surgery that God’s hands would guide his hands as he operated on me.

 

And there were no better hands to be in. The surgery was successful, and I made a complete recovery.