Our SUV was packed to the brim—all the comforts of home were tucked in tightly to make our three-week stay in a hotel a bit more pleasant. The first thing we loaded were two boxes of Shelley’s latest book, Spotless, to give away during this trip. Pulling out of the garage, we paused for prayer before hitting the road, asking the Lord to watch over us as we traveled the 630 miles to Rochester, Minnesota, and to give us divine appointments when we arrived for our return visit to Mayo Clinic.
Praise God for answered prayers. Storms were brewing all around us, and the winds were fierce on our way up. However, we arrived safely, and the very next day, on the shuttle to Shelley’s first appointment, God seated us next to Angie,* who was sitting on the coveted front row with grab bars that make it easier on aging knees to maneuver.
As we were boarding, Angie initiated a conversation with Shelley, making very complimentary remarks. A good bit of laughter was mingled in with their verbal exchange. As my wife eyed the two available aisle seats, it was obvious I needed the space available next to petite Angie, while Shelley would sit across the aisle, next to a husky man whose frame spilled over his allotted space. This arrangement did not interrupt the cheerful conversation that had begun between the two women, and soon the three of us were talking like old friends.
“Have you been at Mayo long, Angie?” I have learned to ask that question, giving people permission to discuss what’s on their mind—the health situation that brought them to the Clinic in the first place.
“My daughter and I arrived late yesterday. I had a routine test early this morning, so I told her to sleep in, and I’d return in time for lunch. But I got some unexpected bad news today,” Angie’s cheerful tone began to diminish as she slowly spoke. “I had bone cancer five years ago, and they had to remove my scapula. After chemo and radiation, I’ve been cancer-free ever since. I get routine checkups every six months, and they have always resulted in good reports. But not today. My bone cancer is back and is in my spine and head. Now I have to break the news to my unsuspecting daughter. She will be devastated.”
Both Shelley and I kicked into grief support mode. Grabbing a copy of Spotless from her tote bag, Shelley dedicated and signed it for Angie.
“If you like to read, Angie, you might find comfort in this book,” she said, handing it to her. At this point, we didn’t know if she knew the Lord. Giving out Spotless is a way to bring God into our conversations with others.
Angie’s eyes lit up, and her cheerful tone rebounded as she said, “Oh, how wonderful. A book about Jesus. I don’t know what I would do without Him. He is my Rock. Did you write this? Are you two in ministry?”
We told her about the mission of 3ABN and how we are privileged to work there in the Lord’s harvest fields.
“Oh, I’ve heard of 3ABN. You’re with that Saturday church. I’m in ministry, too. I provide free childcare for underprivileged children under the age of six and teach them about the Lord. I also provide free respite care for two families on the weekends. I’m not concerned about my destination; I know the Lord. The hard part for me is to think about my family and how they will handle my death. I hate the thought of leaving them,” she said while trying to keep a brave face. “I really hate to have to make this announcement to my family. It’s gonna be so difficult.”
We tried to give her words of reassurance and encouragement as the shuttle arrived at our destination. She said God had placed us there for her, and then we had to say our goodbyes.
When we receive bad news, it often feels like a fog that rolls in around us as we try to process and anticipate the future. Angie has the assurance of salvation because she is anchored to the Lord. Her concern was not about her destination, but about leaving her family alone. She is one of thousands who visit Mayo Clinic, looking for hope, and hoping for good news. It is a place of healing, and a wonderful place for divine appointments to bring words of encouragement from the Lord to those who are wearied by their health journey.
The fog of processing comes from the shock of bad news. We all enter into that fog during our lifetime, and the only One who can clear it away is the Lord. How privileged we are that He allows us to do this work with Him—to point fearful people to His assurance through a kind word of encouragement. When fearful situations come up, I like to read this Scripture:
“What time I am afraid, I will have confidence in and put my trust and reliance in You. By [the help of] God I will praise His word; on God I lean, rely, and confidently put my trust; I will not fear. What can man, who is flesh, do to me?” Psalm 56:3–4 (AMPC)
We are most grateful that Shelley’s health concerns are not life-threatening, but for so many we meet at Mayo Clinic, they are. Our trips there have become missionary in nature. We both make certain we greet everyone with a smile and a kind word, and give them an opportunity to talk about their situations. Then, by the grace of God, we share a word of encouragement and a copy of Spotless.
Most people who are in the fog of processing want to be heard. Are we listening? As Christians, it is our duty to reflect the love and the compassionate character of Christ. A well-spoken word of encouragement is used by the Lord to help the clouds part and cause the fog to start dissipating as He shines the warmth of His light into their situation.
*Pseudonym
