The Other Doors

Our 4 year old son has some fairly serious health problems, so we are
"frequent fliers" at the local children's hospital. Two weeks ago, our
son was there for several days having surgery.
As stressful as that was for us, my visits to that hospital almost
always leave me feeling grateful. Why? Because of "the other doors."
As I walk the corridors ofthat hospital, I pass doors leading to many
different departments. I pass the department where surgeons
reconstruct children's faces. I pass the department where specialists
treat children who have been tragically burned. I pass the department
where children with cancer spend their childhoods battling a disease
that terrifies most adults. Every day, people walk through those
doors. I keep walking.
Occasionally, I walk through a ward, past theroom of a dying child. I
look in at the child, unconscious amid a massof tubes and machines. I
see the family, staring blankly into space, grieving for what is to
come. I keep walking.
On the fourth floor, I pass the "catacombs" where parents with
children in ICU watch their days and nights stretch into weeks and
months, hoping against hope for good news. I keep walking.
It's late one evening, and I walk to the waiting room. Only one family
remains, and theirdoctor arrives from surgery. He begins to tellthem
about the patient'sinjuries....a shotgun blast,
self-inflicted....massive facial damage.... a dozen moreoperations to
come....a lifetime of disfigurement...a lifetime of asking"why?" I
sit, half-listening, considering the doors, this family will face in
the years ahead.
I stood up. I walk back tothe preschool ward, to the one door I seek.
Behind this door, our son is slowly recovering from surgery. And in a
strange way, I am grateful for the"situation" that we live with.
Because there are a hundred other doors in this place that are far
worse. And we could justas easily be in one of those rooms.
As you pray for strength to open the doors you face, be sure to thank
Allah Ta'ala for the doorshe has spared you.