On my way to the cafeteria for my lunch break, I met a little patient on the elevator. She was maybe six or seven years old, frail, and alarmingly pale. Her enormous blue eyes peered curiously from underneath an oversized Orioles baseball cap that partially concealed a small head bald from bouts of chemotherapy.
Her too large, standard-issue hospital gown hung loosely on her thin frame, it's narrow straps wrapped twice around her little body in order to prevent it from coming loose. Feet clad snugly in rubber-soled socks, she was perched precariously atop a wheeled IV pole. Two drips hanging from it's metal arms were connected by clear plastic tubing to veins in her forearm. One small hand tightly grasped the IV pole and the other hand clung to her mother's arm, who was steering it.
As I got on the elevator, she gazed at me curiously.
Exchanging smiles with the mom, I exclaimed, 'Well, hello there! That pole ride looks like fun!'
She lowered her gaze shyly and leaned towards her mother.
I pressed the button for the main floor, proceeded to check my phone for missed calls and texts, then looked out the glass elevators to the indoor fountain and wood and glass lobby visible seven stories below.
'Today's my birthday,' a small voice piped up.
I looked away from the pretty view. 'Is that right? Well, a very happy birthday to you!' Then, smiling, I asked, 'Did you wish for anything special?'
She remained silent. Just as I thought perhaps she hadn't heard my question, she looked up hesitantly.
'I wished to see my daddy. He's in heaven God called him'
I remained quiet. What do you say to that? Some people always know the right thing to say, but words often fail me.
The elevator doors opened on the next floor below, but no one got on.
After a few seconds I finally replied, 'God must've loved him very much.'
Glancing at the little girl's mom who was looking at me, I saw tears welled in her eyes though she smiled and maintained her composure.
Uncertain as to how I could provide some measure of comfort but overwhelmed by a need to somehow do so, I held her gaze in quiet understanding for a couple seconds until the elevator door opened.
Then we said goodbye and she headed away, wheeling her little girl along with her on the stainless steel, 6' tall pole.
I'd lost my appetite but still slowly headed towards the cafeteria.
It struck me how I complain about insignificant things when people like this young woman endure extraordinarily difficult trials with dignity and strength.
It's true Allah swt never places a burden on us greater than we can bear; may He give us the strength and patience to endure and persevere..
