On the road
I was in the elevator at the hospital in Rockford, Ill., taking the commuter from fourth floor to first floor. I had completed my visit, prayed with my patient, and was now on my way to the next visit at the next hospital.
In the elevator was one other person, a woman with a weary and weathered face that indicated that much life had been packed into her forty-something years. I gazed mostly at the floor as you do when it's just two of you in the elevator. But I also noticed that she seemed agitated, rocking back and forth on her feet, glancing this way and that, mumbling to herself.
My pastor's radar picked up the signals: I can't stand it, can't stand it. I'm going to explode. I glanced up to see tears, not tears of sadness but of joy. "It's too much, too wonderful. It's incredible!" By now she was mumbling not only to herself, but to me.