DNGILB: Trust me, I'm a doctor.

The first few days in Laguna Beach have been great. The constant battle against health problems and strategies of our enemy who wants to destroy hope (and us) seem to be held at bay. We are getting much needed rest and restoration... Oh, but how quickly things can change. Vacation day 3, everything changes. On the way to breakfast, my wife is hit with a serious wave of nausea. She thought she was going to be sick. She marks out the path to the bathroom in case of emergency. The nausea gives way to severe bad abdominal pain. We had already ordered food, so instead of going back to the house she lays in the parked car while the rest of us try and finish up. The pain didn't really begin to let up till late afternoon. It's nothing new, we should be used to it... but I felt very discouraged. I journaled to God my raw emotions. "God. Father. I feel scared. I feel this sense of future defeat... Like I might as well just give up now and stop trying to really live life... and

There is a trail in midtown. It used to be a railroad track. It snakes around behind expensive houses. There are big trees, dense wooded areas. Eventually it breaks free from the houses and empties onto an wooden bridge that spans the river. I was due a run in my quest to be physically and emotionally healthy, so I ventured out. Early into my run, I pass by a man. He looked very homeless. Long unkempt hair. Wild bushy beard. Clothes that are quite out of season. Why do so many homeless people wear a jacket or trench coat even in the heat of summer?! Anyways, this gentleman caught my attention differently than most of the homeless people I see walking this trail. He had an old suitcase. It was brown leather, like a saddle. It was worn, but still looked sturdy. It looks like a suitcase that should have traveled all around the country in the back of a 1960's Buick. This man stood still in the middle of the path, facing the east. Motionless.

I have a memory from my youth. I cannot remember exactly when I had this thought… Bu t  I remember the thought clearly. I was probably in high school at the time. I recognized that some people have been though very difficult times in life. Tragedies. Horrible evils inflicted upon them, though they were innocent victims. These tough times leaves them emotionally wounded, broken. I saw them as defective. I guess most people would just say they “have baggage.” This means, they’re a gamble. I remember thinking, “I don’t want to marry someone who is broken.” I feared their “baggage” would impede or interrupt my pursuit of “happiness”… Which was really just my pursuit of self-indulgent pleasure, comfort, and ease. When I was in my teens, it was all about me. I remembered feeling bad for these broken people. I felt they are still valuable and deserve healthy lives and good things. But I was afraid to enter with them into relationships. More recently I’ve gained a better perspective. I see mor