Today I returned to my favorite yoga class to celebrate the two-month anniversary of my surgery. At my last pre-surgery class in early January, two people made unhelpful comments which I wrote about here. This time the instructor welcomed me with a huge hug and quietly mentioned that the teenage son of one of the women had open heart surgery less than a month ago.
For over an hour, the instructor pushed us through downward facing dogs, planks, pyramids, triangle poses and the like. Other than chaturangas, a couple moves with arms stretched to the side or behind the head, I plowed through them all. Surreptitiously I’ve been doing balance moves without using my arms for weeks, and the fruits were evident.
The sweetest fruit came afterwards in my conversation with the mother. Her high-school aged son has undergone multiple open-heart surgeries to repeatedly replace his congenitally defective aortic valve as he grows. We knew the medical lingo, the ordeal associated with surgery and recovery, and the lifestyle adjustments required by the procedure. She shared as a mother, me as a sympathetic owner of a pig valve like her son’s.
Call it random, call it coincidence, call it fate; I call it a God Date. Through our connection I see the hands of a loving Father who knew two people who could support and encourage each other would be punishing themselves in the same yoga class for over a year. This omniscient Father knew two heart valves would weaken about the same time and need replacement within weeks of each other. And this faithful Father touched our lives through the comfort we could extend to one another (2 Corinthians 1:3-4).
That’s a God Date.