This Sunday will be the Feast of Saint John the Baptist. I'm supposed to be writing a stirring homily on this subject to touch the hearts of the faithful and bring them to repentance, but, to be honest with you, I'm having a bit of a hard time concentrating.
It's not easy to be thinking about Zechariah and Elizabeth and the Archangel Gabriel when I know that three thousand miles away my sister is having a PET scan to determine the spread of her cancer. Some weeks ago I blogged about my sister Maryanne's brain tumor. We now know that this tumor is actually a distant metastasis. Today's test will indicate just how aggressive this disease has become.
How do I feel? A big part of me is yet to get my head around the idea that this is as serious as everyone tells me it is. I just can't believe that my sister--my goofy sister who walked me to the store when I was little, who painted scenery for the plays I was in, who went dancing with me--is really this sick.
Another part of me is really, really angry about the inadequate treatment she was given at her local clinic. You see, my sis doesn't make much money so she doesn't have health care insurance. I'm just really outraged that today, in 2012, in the wealthiest nation on the planet, we still have people who refuse to see health care as a basic human right and not a privilege for those who can afford it.
But the outrage doesn't get me anywhere. Just like old Zechariah in Luke's gospel, I find myself mute and questioning and begging God for a sign--even when I have God's promise:
"We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28)
Well, Maryanne certainly loves God if anyone does. So what's good about this situation, huh? Will we see a miracle? Will there be a sign?
My family waits. And we hope. And we pray.
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