And the sheer beauty of being alive.
Sometimes the past can be a complicated mess of confusing emotions. Painful memories surface, yet those memories don't stop the human spirit from healing. I learned about unconditional love this week, and it made me cry.
Then, on the ride home, Elliot was stricken with a fierce stomach cramp that made it painful to walk. For several hours, he suffered in the back seat and we worried. Then we prayed. We prayed mile after mile for Elliot to be relieved of his pain, then stopped at a truck stop for medicine. On the way back to our car, we were stopped by a man who struck up a random conversation. This man claimed to be a doctor, and told us never to underestimate our child. He said that when he was a boy, he told everyone he was going to be a doctor, then grew up to attend college and achieve his dream. The story he told about being a black college student in the south during the time of integration was gripping. He captivated us with his story, and while he spoke, the world around us faded to the background. I was aware that I needed to attend to my son who was having an urgent issue, but felt prompted to be patient a little while longer and listen.
While the man spoke, I noticed that it was unusual for a doctor to be dressed in a suit jacket that was frayed and worn, with a rumpled flannel shirt underneath. As the conversation came to a close, he mentioned the word "Savior" and sent us on our way. When we sped up to enter the highway, I asked Elliot how he was feeling. He said, "I'm completely healed."
Richard and I both spoke aloud our suspicions that the black doctor was really an angel in disguise, sent to help Elliot and to give us hope and encouragement. He reminded us of Clarence from It's a Wonderful Life.
The thing about faith is that you don't have to prove it to anyone. You just believe.
We came home to find everything just as we left it, but somehow we were different. We were more appreciative, more excited to be sharing this life together as a family. When I looked at my desk top computer I realized that in that box, I also have a little home here on this blog. I didn't miss the new project on Wordpress, and came home with no impulse to start over somewhere else. I live in an older home in real life, and maybe because Blogger is an older internet home, that's what makes it feel better to me. I'm not concerned about looking fresh or being taken seriously by critics. I only need a space to write what's in my heart and not worry about whether or not I appear to be a professional.