Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a city, spend a year there, buy and sell, and make a profit”; whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.  James 4:13-14

Anyone who works in health care knows the truth of these words.  The line between life and death can dissolve in an instant, and most of us are not blessed to know when our line will disappear.  In the last few weeks I have been confronted with another idea regarding these verses.  I am know great theologian, so take all of what follows with a grain of salt.

In the past month, all of the stroke victims I have been charged with working with are under the age of 65.  As I have drawn closer to “middle age,” 65 no longer seems quite so old.  All of these folk were able bodied, working and enjoying their lives.  A tiny blood clot changed all of this for them.  One minute, living life as they always had, the next, on the floor, unable to move or speak, imprisoned in their own skin.  The life they lived before is but a vapor.  Nothing will ever be the same.  They must visit doctors to ensure their continued health and trust their rehabilitation to people like me who want to help them improve.  But, they will never be quite the same, no matter how much improvement they accomplish.

Some of the children I work with are disabled by the threat of seizures.  Their parents looked forward to raising a “normal” child and the joy this can entail.  Now, those visions of happy, uneventful childhoods are but a vapor.  They must visit doctors, administer medicine and treatments and visit therapists like me who hope to maximize their children’s abilities.  But their children will never be “normal” and there is always the threat of that next seizure, despite all the medicines, and what damage it could do.

The wisest of these folks put one foot in front of the other and keep their fists up, ready for battle.  They take what they’re given, forget what “normal” meant before it was vaporized, and begin anew.  I admire them greatly and wonder if I would have the strength to fight with the grace with which they fight.  Constantly, I am reminded of how fragile life and health are.  It can’t be taken for granted.  Each day, whatever it’s trials and tribulations, becomes a blessing in the light of all that could be.  I pray for their healing and that I would have the strength and the wisdom to help them on their new journeys.