I had hoped to move these paragraphs to more sunny territory, but our clouds and shadows linger. This week, we have suffered the loss of one of our pastors. Sunday night, Jesus escorted Pastor George into his rest and reward. Our shock could not be greater. Our hearts ache for Mary and the family. Pray for the grace of His comfort. Now, we all have to bridge the space between what we thought would be and what is. The Shepherd will lead us.

The Psalmist proclaims, “We are fearfully and wonderfully made!” God has created the body to be its own best physician. Our body’s capacity for healing carries us through life. We are protected and preserved in health in far greater measure than we are sick. But even our bodies need help.

Cancer has been painless for me. I had no sign of its presence. I was living symptom free, completely unaware of a growing invasion of malignant cells. Were it not for a careful doctor and the clarity of medical tests, I would have continued my days, oblivious to the situation, until there was no straightforward remedy. So here is the irony. My disease was painless, but the cure was not.

My recent surgical experience stripped me of misconceptions I had about hospitals. I believed them to be places of healing and care, which they are, but I discovered they are not places of sleep. The lingering effects of anesthetic dragged me towards slumber, but hospital noises and routines tugged in the opposite direction.