Her face was truly a wreck; I don’t know how else to put it. She clearly suffered from some skin ailment and it looked as if wart-like growths had overtaken every square inch from ear to ear. As I passed her in the waiting room on my way to the receptionist, I told her how pretty her blouse was. The woman, probably in her late 70s, immediately brightened up and thanked me for the compliment.
After confirming the usual insurance information, I took a seat next to the lady. I had detected a foreign accent and before you know it we were discussing our former lives in Germany and our very favorite old-time recipes. She was a fascinating, accomplished, completely lovely person.
You know how sometimes you are having such a great conversation in the waiting room that you are almost sad to hear your name called? Well, mine came up first so we said our goodbyes and wished each other well.
I wondered about this woman all day yesterday; like how old was she when the whole skin thing started..was it a lifelong ailment? Did it hurt or itch? Was it just on her face? I wondered about her choice of clothing, so bold and happy and her personality which was as beautiful and colorful as the flowers on her blouse. She had mentioned her husband who came with her to the United States back in the early 60s; I wondered about him too.
I prayed for God to bless her with a miracle.. but then realized that this woman already was one. She was a living, breathing, triumphant miracle rising above her circumstance every time she walked out the door and into the public eye.
And without me even realizing it, her courage, her brightness and her friendliness had blessed me.