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In Weakness and in Health

I've been to a hospital or some form of healthcare center almost everyday of the week. My aunt's scheduled acupuncture and her chemotherapy sessions. Faith's kid cousin fell ill. An old lady from church had a cataract removed. My own physiotherapy for my wrist.
An unusual bond has been forged between the strange world of the unwell and me. I feel somewhat privileged to be witness to this side of humanity that is so often shunned aside and ignored by the rest of us. A table reserved for the physically disabled stands in the middle of the rest of the "normal" tables, a place inaccessible, even to the healthy of foot. That, my friend, is the feeble attempt we have made to make their lives better.
Yet the strength that belies them is something we will never have privy to unless we place our own physical strength aside. Looking at the sick children at the children's hospital, I cannot help but be amazed at how happy and content they seem. It doesn't faze them that they have to consume their McDonald's Happy Meal with one hand. I'm sure many a tear has been shed, and cries uttered, but none of those smell of despair, unlike the pity we shower upon them, a bid to allay our guilt rather than improve their lives.
The old aunt from church prayed for us. In her physical weakness she saw that we were weak, and blind to the fact. I cherish this summer spent amongst them. They whom we think have little of life have taught me so much about living it, breathing it and loving it.

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