Life talks to you in mysterious ways - all you have to do is listen and pay attention

Throughout life, things happen - some minor, some important and most of them largely ignored.

But every now and then, they happen with a seriousness that demands attention. Things like jobs, love - life-altering events.

Rarely, but sometimes, these events come with a hard slap in the face. So hard there is no choice than to pay attention - if you are lucky enough to do so.

I've been largely absent the last 4 to 6 weeks as my health deteriorated. I knew what was wrong, but didn't really just how bad it was.

That changed a little past Christmas midnight when The Lord knocked me to my knees.

I had been struggling with balance and dizziness. The last few days I was passing out. Then bowel movements were noticeably bloody. Huge amounts of bloody vomit followed.

I managed to crawl to the bathroom that morning but never made it to the toilet - soiling myself, puking all over the place before blacking out. Coming to slightly, I shouted for Ellen, who was asleep in another room. I got Oliver's attention by banging on the floor, telling him to get mama, who arrived to what I'm sure was a frightful scene.

"911" I pleaded before passing out again.

Paquotank-Camden fire and rescue got me to Sentara Albemarle in Elizabeth City where my blood pressure of around 80 over 30 was scary enough. But the four bags of blood transfusion and the look on the faces of doctors and technicians added considerable worry.

Orders for Nightingale to Princess Anne Sentara summed it up. As if there were any doubt, I was being told I was about 4 hours away from bleeding to death.

Quick treetop buzz to Virginia Beach, ICU, throat surgery to find the bleeders and stop them, a few gallons of fluid pumped from my stomach and back to the room to keep me progressing in the right direction.

From Oliver and Ellen, to great neighbors, to the medical world from top to bottom, it looked like I would be OK.

The hand of Jesus had given me a second chance.

My problem was decades of drinking - "paying for the sins of my youth" as one doctor once put it. Except my youth lasted from 1975 to the 2021 Christmas weekend.

All the right signs were being given to me, but a stupid "oh, it'll get better and be alright" attitude almost introduced me to my maker.

Lots of tests and doctors visits await, but I'll be back in the outdoors saddle in time for the boat show. I have interviews already done that I can write until then.

So as a new year has charged through the door, I'll be listening, paying attention to the signs and thanking God for a second chance.

'Cause that slap in the face was one seriously-needed, and very rude awakening.