"No, child," said Jesus. "I need you awake for this operation. You are the only one who can tell Me how far I may go with you. If you insist that I stop, I will do so. However, I will give you an effective medicine against the pain. If you sing praises, you will find it can be borne. You do want a new heart, don't you?"
I shut my eyes, gritted my teeth, and whispered, "Yes."
The angels held me immobile, and the Surgeon cut down the center of my chest right to the bone. I screamed. His hands never wavered. He split my sternum and held back my ribs with retractors. I shrieked and cried and sobbed.
"Sing praises," pleaded Jesus. "Sing, child!" His voice trembled with shared grief, but His hand never did, as He reached for my bulbous, diseased heart.
Sing praises! Impossible! Ridiculous! Angrily I screamed, "How could You do this to me?"
"Do you want Me to stop?"
Of course I did! Oh, how I wanted Him to stop! "No," I groaned.
One by one, He began to cut the connections that held my old heart to my body. But, oh, it took so long! When would He be finished? I faded in and out of consciousness.
He asked again, "Do you want me to stop?"
To be continued
Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire
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