erday as I was washing up some dishes, my mom came up behind me and thanked me, giving my back a little scratch. And if your back is anything like my back, all of the sudden my whole back decides to get itchy and it's not satisfied until the entire surface has been covered! My mom, being one of the best back-scratchers that I know, graciously finished the task.
It reminded me of something that happened in the hospital in October. Despite being mentally foggy most of the time, my mind recorded this moment and I don't want to forget it.
I had been taken to dialysis in the hospital, and I was laying there in bed watching the activity all around me. There were four beds on each side of the room, with a wide aisle in the middle. The older man diagonally across the room from me was kind of restless, coughing a lot and seemed pretty miserable. I understood. Dialysis levels the playing field.
I noticed a group of three doctors as they entered the room. They stood off to the side and you could tell they were discussing the man whom I just described, looking at him from time to time. It became clear who was the lead doctor. It was a young woman who was explaining things to her even younger male students.
The young lady doctor was attractive, probably of Middle Eastern descent. Her skin was a beautiful smooth brown, something that my blotchy palish-red caucasian epidermis has never experienced...except for those summers as a lifeguard when I practically begged the sun for skin cancer. Anyway, I digress.
Eventually the little huddle of educated intelligence moved its way to the foot of the man's bed, where Dr. Beauty Queen began to speak with him. She was kind and spoke gently with the patient, explaining his situation and how his recent lab results looked. It was hard not to eavesdrop; it's not like I had anything else to do and they were a short 15 feet away. The other two docs just stood at the foot of the bed while Dr. BQ listened to his lungs and examined his legs and feet.
The old man spoke loudly, asking the doctor all sorts of questions. The doctor answered each one until he was done. As the consultation came to a close, Dr. BQ asked the man "Is there anything else I can do for you?" The old, weary patient didn't miss a beat: he said "Would you please scratch my back?"
Beauty Queen didn't miss a beat either. She replied "I sure can." The two students smiled awkwardly at each other as their mentor moved close to the man as he leaned over on his side. She began to scratch and the man said "I haven't been able to reach that spot in the middle of my back all morning." He continued to give her directions:
"A little higher."
"Over just a little bit."
And the Beautiful Doctor did just as he requested. When the man finally declared that all was good, BQ said "Are you sure I got it all?"
She's one of the greatest doctors I've never known.
It made me teary when it happened, and it still moves me as I remember it. I don't know if she realized how much she looked like Jesus in that moment. I'm sure there wasn't a class in her university on Proper Back-Scratching Techniques. But she mastered it.
"In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:
6 Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be used to be grasped;
7 rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
8 And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to death--
even death on a cross!" (Philippians 2)
Beauty Queen was transformed into Beautiful Heart right before my eyes.
True humility is a gorgeous thing, and I was so grateful for its lesson that day.
I want to be a back-scratching Beautiful Heart.
Thanks, Mom, for the reminder.