I go to various therapies at the local Catholic hospital for multiple medical issues. Today was an OT and PT day, and I had a substitute physical therapist. As a general rule, I respond to new people slowly and then don’t shut up. 🤷🏼♀️ But this lady I took to immediately. I was in an immense amount of pain today, but went to the hospital anyway because movement has always helped me; even now. It doesn’t make the pain go away completely, but it distracts me from it and does help a little bit. Anyway, this therapist was cautious because I admitted I was at around a 9.5 pain wise, but she still pushed and encouraged which I loved. Weird, right? Anyway, we were doing these step ups on a platform of sorts they have in the PT gym, and I asked her if she had ever noticed the cross on the roof top out the window if you look up. She said that she hadn’t and wondered if they were at all the corners of the hospital. I told her probably. Nuns like crosses. She chuckled heartily and said true. I also pointed at a chip underneath one of the windows. That a piece of the frame around the edge had fallen away years ago. Then looked at her with all seriousness and with a heart full of sincerity and said you know, hospitals don’t have to be fancy. It’s who works at them and how they treat every person that walks inside that matters. She nodded and smiled and said very true.
The world is a weird place. People hate each other for the most stupid of reasons when every last one of us were formed from the same set of hands. People care about things that are so shallow on this side of Heaven that will mean nothing when God calls us home. It won’t matter what car we drove or what kind of purse we carried. It will matter if we were kind. If we loved fiercely. If we were a helper to those that needed it. And most importantly if we were in genuine communion with Him.