Being Sick. . .

I hate being sick. Doesn’t everyone? Probably more than actually being sick, I particularly despise the anticipation of the arrival of a nice, hefty viral infection. At the risk of being overly dramatic, it’s like being tied to the tracks as you watch the train approaching to squish you.

As a teacher during flu season in California, I could reasonably count on a good illness or two to ravage my household each winter. I and the staff at our school would watch with dread as the numbers in our class would begin to dip, indicating the genesis of a new epidemic. The anticipation was the worst (and I tend to be a bit of a hypochondriac) as I waited for the first victim in my own home to fall – it was just a matter of time before we entered a holding pattern during which time we waited until each member of our five took their turn on the sick bed.

Well, it’s no different here. In fact, the drama is heightened because each and every student in our little school lives right here on campus. Our sick kids hit the infirmary in droves as life within the gates becomes a micro-epidemiological study for the CDC. Add to this mix a hectic schedule and a population of kids recently returned from their homes in the various countries all over the African continent and the drama ignites.

This year, one of our students was infected with malaria in her home country, probably shortly before returning to RVA. Since the symptoms of malaria mimic those of most influenza, she was treated according to the predominant diagnosis, spending several days in the Student Health center – until the worst-case scenario for a health care worker reared its ugly head. Malaria, the uncontested killer of the African continent, had struck our student and she quickly went from bad to critical, dropping into a coma after her infection became localized in her brain.

The call went out for prayer – and if email is an iceberg tip measure of popular response, half the globe dropped to its knees in prayer to our Almighty Father, the only Healer that we could turn to in such a dismal crisis. Understand that malaria, once it has gone cerebral, has an abominable prognosis – if not turned around within 24-hours, it is most likely fatal. We prayed for healing, of course, but acknowledged that God’s will was what we sought, not our own. And God, in His wonderful mercy, granted healing to our young student.

48-hours after being in a malaria-induced coma, she was released from the hospital.

She was attending classes two days later, and can be seen walking energetically around campus during the school day. She is still recovering, and may need quite some time to feel “normal” again. But I can say unequivocally that a miracle has taken place in our midst.

While most of us do hate being sick, I believe that any of us would trade places with a sick child. God places them in our care, and that care becomes central to our sense of purpose. We feel a great upheaval when a child becomes ill or dies, as if the divine order has been disrupted.

And yet, what a vision of God’s grace and love when healing is given and we are witness to the overarching supremacy of God in all human affairs. While I would prefer the kind of miracle that doesn’t require any pain or suffering to be realized, I can only imagine a world in which God didn’t show up at times like these. His glory is revealed most vividly in our need, when our resources are exhausted, when we turn to Him in desperation. He shows up!