A week ago today I was doubled over in severe pain, heading to the ER.

Turns out that diverticulitis and a clot in an oh-so-tiny vein are the Dastardly Duo. And while all the pain was zero fun, I’m thankful for a clear diagnosis. Clarity is never overrated, y’all. And in this case, clarity gave me peace in knowing what’s wrong so that I can take better care of myself.

Now, while clarity is a blessing, getting to clarity is usually the tricky part. I’m not afraid of doctors or medical facilities, but being in health facilities puts me on my Ps and Qs. Navigating countless doctors and medical moments as my late dad’s primary caregiver for many years “learned me good,” to borrow his phrase.

So, while my husband drove me to the ER, I breathed this prayer: Lord, please surround me with people who are knowledgable AND kind. Who will really see me, and not dismiss me as just another body. Amen.

And God showed out in answering my prayer . . .

The nurses brought their A-game with great communication and needle pricks as gentle as possible. The ER doctor was respectful and clear as a bell in guiding us. And he wasn’t playing around – he ordered a CAT scan and other tests to get a solid diagnosis as soon as possible.

I was satisfied. I thanked God out loud and deep inside myself, for placing medical professionals around me who were exactly what I prayed for.

But, God wasn’t done.

While we were waiting for my test results, the janitor appeared outside the door with her cart. She was short like me and Latina. Like everyone else who worked there, she wore a blue mask for safety. In a gentle voice, she asked, “May I clean your room, please?” We smiled as we agreed.

She thanked us and started working right away, wiping doorknobs and countertops. When my husband removed our belongings from a counter to be helpful, she insisted, “No, that’s not necessary. You don’t have to move your items for me.” And, as soon as she finished, she insisted to my husband in a mama-like tone, “Now, put all of your items back!” which made us all laugh out loud together.

That laughter seemed to be an invitation for her to talk with us. But, she wasn’t talking just to talk.

She started beaming about God’s goodness in her life.

It couldn’t have been more than five or six minutes tops, but in that time we learned so much about this petite, humble woman named Carmen. As she mopped the floor, we learned how incredibly grateful she is for her job. How she lost both of her parents at a young age. How a loving grandfather raised her and, when he died, how an equally loving cousin finished raising her. How she’s now happily married with three children.

How everything she does – including her work as a janitor – is from a heart overflowing with love. And how that love brims over because of how deep and wide God loves her.

She was so genuine. Even with a mask on her face, we could see the brightness of her smile. Her eyes literally sparkled. The joy was all over her body. She was filled with Light.

In sharing her story, Carmen ushered in God’s love. She reminded us that He was already in that tiny room with us. While still riding waves of pain, I also felt joy. Calm. Peace.

We thanked Carmen for blessing us in sharing her story. And after she wished us well and moved on to the next room, I started wiping my eyes. As tears of gratitude fell down my cheeks, my husband wiped his own eyes and said, “Yep, I know. Same here.”

A stranger touched our hearts in a way we won’t soon forget. Carmen made one of our toughest days also one of our most blessed days. And while I’m so grateful for the medical team’s work to heal my body, meeting her – even for just a few minutes – was good healing too, from the inside out.

xoxo