The Surgeon

I feel like a patient lying awake on the operating table. The warm comfort of my skin is pinned to the side and I am vulnerable to the hands of the Surgeon. I beg him to stitch me back up. “This hurts, Lord!” I cry. But there’s no turning back now. He gently strokes my hair, looks me in the eye and says, “Don’t be afraid. You are my child, Alissa. I love you! I won’t hurt you and I’ll never leave your side. I have your best interest in mind.”

I can’t wait until I am stitched back up and this wound heals.