I feel out of place in this house.
At 3 a.m., it’s almost silent. It’s almost completely dark. Because it’s not my house, I notice every little sound and every faint glowing light on electronic devices. But the only sound I really notice is the quiet, rhythmic breathing of my sleeping friend in the next room.
I haven’t slept much this week, because I’ve been sitting up at night with a friend who had major surgery last week for life-threatening cancer.
I’m not much of a nurse, but that’s not why I’m here. She just needs someone to help her get to a bathroom every hour or two. She has drain lines to clean and empty. Incisions to clean and bind. Medications to take. Pain to endure.
I’m just here to help her stand and then to lie back down. To move a bandaged leg that can’t move much on its own. To make sure she doesn’t fall.
As she sleeps in unpredictable intervals, I have a lot of time to think. Since I’ve known this friend since we were both children, you would think I would be worrying about the stage 4 cancer that threatens her life. But that’s not where my thoughts are tonight.
Instead, I’m thinking about my own life.
Maybe that means I’m selfish. Or maybe it just means I’m human. Or maybe it’s God’s way of putting me into an uncomfortable place of asking myself questions that scare me.

Why did I really feel annoyed? They were happy; I was jealous
Reading people is a survival skill which all children need to learn
‘What’s the worth of one warm smile? Go and ask the dead man’
What if people don’t really care about understanding each other?
Most prizes feel empty, because our real need is for connection
Love drives us mad, but madness rescues us from ‘horrible sanity’
Nobody’s perfect as a mate, but Mary Poppins was pretty close
Bachmann’s attack on Obama’s TelePrompTer was cynical hypocrisy