Dodging traffic and sniffing dogs, I continued the daily grind going house to house with a not so happy spirit. I was hired by a local school district to conduct its yearly census. It was not a job that I relished, but it was some income that could be put to good use. I recently left my thirty-year career as a social worker and was still trying to figure out what to do with my life. I was too young to retire, but trying to start a new career at my age was terrifying. I needed to generate some income, as my husband’s salary was not quite sufficient to meet our financial obligations. We had a little saved, but it was quickly being depleted. Out of need, I agreed to take this employment for the stipend it would pay. I never expected a lesson awaited me.

    It was one of those woe-is-me days when I met her. She was a woman about my age. When she came to the door, it was obvious that something was wrong. She was very cheerful, but could not seem to get words out of her mouth. Through careful listening and questioning, I was able to ascertain that the woman recently experienced a massive stroke and was suffering with aphasia, a residual affect that often follows what is commonly called a stroke. The person afflicted has difficulty recalling words, and sometimes one word is substituted for another. Symptoms may disappear as the body heals, but often this condition is irreversible.

    At one point in my past career, I served as Director of Services in a nursing home. I was very familiar with the affects of aphasia and had gained the skills to communicate with those afflicted. Consequently, I was not startled by her inability to speak in sentences or in clearly distinguishable language. I reassured her that together, we could come to an understanding. She invited me into her home. Through stammers, misused words, and speech that resembled a toddler’s, she explained her recent stroke and the extensive surgery that followed. She leaned over and bent her head down to reveal a six-inch scar as evidence of the veracity of her story.

    “I not to live!” She expressed the opinion that no one expected her to recover from the ordeal.

She survived against the odds...

    She survived against the odds and was pleased to show me how well she was ambulating. She proudly demonstrated how she was gaining in strength every day. I was amazed at her upbeat persona in the face of all she endured. She was still a relatively young woman to be so regressed, but exclaimed with a smile that would light a thousand candles, “God-Good. Better me than dead!”

    Talk about wisdom! How I wished she could preach that message to more than just me. But, it was what I needed to hear that day. No matter what befalls us, we can still thank our Heavenly Father for the gift of life. Problems may beset us, regress our progress, and throw us into turmoil; but as long as we have breath, He has promised they will not defeat us.

    Paul, who had himself faced suffering and enormous persecution, wrote to Christians encouraging them to understand that no matter what adversity invades our life, with Christ we will overcome:

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. (2 Corinthians 4:16 NIV)