Hospitals and churches

Strange — I like both.

Maybe ‘like’ isn’t the right word. But I experience a peculiar kind of peacefulness within the walls of these two places. I become acutely aware of life’s vastness and its fleeting nature. I am aware of our mortality. Death, though not in a gloomy way, reminds me that despite the collective passage of every individual, humanity persists — from the first cry of a newborn to the last breath of the dying; from prayer to prayer, across centuries and millennia. Amidst pain and death, there’s also healing, continuity, hope, and a stubborn belief in something higher and eternal.

The walls of hospitals and churches know a lot about humanity.

Thank God I’m not a frequent visitor to hospitals. But life happens sometimes. Last year I found myself in the emergency room after experiencing Vertigo. I felt so awful that I feel lucky even now about how harmless — relatively speaking — the diagnosis turned out.

And I spent today at St. Jude Hospital in Fullerton, California. My wife had a herniated disc surgery. It’s a large modern facility with an unmistakable religious touch. There are religious images and the black-and-white photos on its walls depicting its history feature church workers. Around 8 pm, while I was in the surgical department’s waiting room, the speakers broadcasted a prayer. It was not the formal kind. The lady talked about how we are children of God, mentioned the resurrection, and offered well wishes. I’m not religious. I don’t even think I am agnostic anymore because…