We’ve been in the ER since about 2:30 this morning to get K rehydrated and de-nauseated (so far, a success). But there’s this lady in the next room who has been yelling/babbling in a slurred sing-song voice the entire time. The ER staff have alternated comfort and firmness to try and keep her from disturbing the rest of the patients, who – like K – are tired and don’t feel well or are in notable pain. From the little I’ve overheard, it seems safe to assume she’s a drug addict.
In the middle of my bleary-eyed annoyance, I had a moment of clarity. What is more tragic: her willingness to trade life for slavery, or my willingness to view her as something less than the sin-marred image of God?