I do not remember them as difficult days. I have no vivid recollections of the struggles and the hurdles in those first post-transplant period. As traumatic as they were, it is the spectacular moments that are etched in my memory: the satisfaction of seeing him gobble down his first meal, the beauty of his face without a ventilator attached, the joy of watching them wheel away another artificial contraption, the wonder of his skin glowing with robust health as the new heart pumped successfully.
Years after the transplant, whenever I prompted James to relate to me what he remembered of his time at Shands Hospital he said, "They treated me like a king. They brought me meals on a tray to my bed and gave me a clicker to pick any TV show I wanted." It was as if God in his gracious way erased his horrific pain and left only a trace of the lovely.
From where I stand, in my present painful place, I trust that years from now I will not vividly remember these difficult days either. Perhaps, I will only recall how He was strengthening my heart and how beautiful the Lord's face was as He pressed close to me. Perhaps, I will vividly recall how sweet His Word was when nothing else could satisfy and how life-sustaining was the grace He poured out into my emptiness. Hopefully, I will forever remember the promise He gave to me in 2 Corinthians 4:16-18: "Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary but what is unseen is eternal."