Sick sick sick.

It seems like everyone in the world is sick right now. My roommate, my coworkers, friends in my play (two girls were comparing prescriptions yesterday), and so on. It's amazing how many little words from teachers' lectures I miss from sporadic coughs from all over the room. And chapel! Our auditorium is essentially one expensive incubator right now, letting dust and germ settle on the sleep-deprived young bodies that wade through it.

But some are sicker than others.

My friend's mother might have leukemia. And Wilson's disease.

Another friend, Mary, wouldn't even tell me what her mother might be sick with, she is so frightened.

At times like this I don't know what to do. Just a couple of years ago my friend Brooke popped up on AIM telling me that her stepfather Jeff had either weeks or months to live. Those were the only options. I prayed furiously along with an unknown number of brothers and sisters in Arizona. When I saw Brooke at school, I cautiously asked how Jeff was, knowing that it had been a few weeks since we spoke. She told me in a tone that one could use for giving directions that there was no more disease in him. And she walked off. And I was stunned.

But why should I be surprised? God has done this for much longer than I've doubted his ability. He cares so much that he even chose to break protocol and heal people in person - with his very touch! God physically touched people! If he cares enough to walk on the same dust that now coats the Benson auditorium seats, surely he cares enough to heal my sisters' mothers. So I should pray, and have faith, right? Easy peasy Japanesey.

But what I hate is choosing how to react when he chooses not to heal. And continuing to pray for strength when I have been spiritually sick for as long as I've breathed.

Yes, everyone in the world is sick right now.

Where is that sun?