I want to thank everyone for the prayers, cards and encouragement you've given me as I continue my recovery from Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. Its slow going: yesterday I spent a full day at the office and had dinner at the nursing home with one of our small groups. I felt pretty well except that I had to have some short naps between appointments. But today I'm working from home and can't hardly get anything done; I'm beat, both physically and mentally. Many ups and downs - That's part of the normal slow recovery from this disease, or so they tell me, so no big deal in the grand scheme of things. 

This illness is teaching me to pay attention to my own sermons a bit more, though: I believe and preach that God loves us for who we are and not for what we can do... and yet I find myself quite uncomfortable that I can't do as much as I typically can, and it tempts me to pray less. What could God want with my tired, distracted prayers along with my outstanding lack of accomplishment? Shouldn't I just stay in bed and leave Him alone until I can "get it together"?

I am reminded of an amusing encounter I had at the nursing home last night: I was seated across from two very nice ladies, and I exchanged the normal pleasantries as we ate: "Where are you from? Tell me about your husband/children/job you enjoyed...." I always try to ask as many questions of them as they do to me. It went well enough, but then after a lull, one of them started again, asking me exactly the same questions as she had five minutes ago. And then again, and again and again and again. And then the second lady started doing the same thing. Same questions, but with one extra thrown in: Knowing I was a minister, she asked repeatedly if I was allowed to change if I didn't like the one I had. I responded that I could, though I was quite content where I am. So in the course of the next 15 minutes I explained at least a dozen times that I had been in Richmond four years, had a wife and two adult children, and could indeed change churches if need be! At some point I noticed some of the other residents down the table smiling knowingly at me, no doubt realizing my plight.  

These were delightful ladies, and one can still see their personalities underneath their dementia. I am honored that they wanted to interact with me, and did the best that they were able to do, and we were all blessed by our time together even if we got caught in a loop verbally. I'm glad they didn't have to sit by themselves with no one to talk to. I'm sure we'll all have a good laugh about it in heaven. I wouldn't trade it, and I'd gladly do it again.