“Look, Ms. Roe, I am not asking for a leave of absence. I just need another week here.”
Nick’s face flushed. He and Maggie sat on the picnic table outside the clinic. A line of patients had returned at the start of his second week, and Nick realized he needed more time.
Buck was bringing the equipment, and Tod was bringing the expertise, and they would arrive tomorrow evening. He would have only three days to operate, and most of that time would be spent on the kids with clubfeet. He was responsible for the children’s post-operative care, but he also wanted to operate on others before he left.
Nick held the phone away from his ear so Maggie could hear the woman bark.
“You didn’t even have the decency to talk to me before you left,” Anita Roe yapped, “and now you want me to approve another week. Dr. Hart, you are so far out of your contract you have no idea what kind of field day our lawyers will have with you.”
The California mission students having lunch with them became quiet. Nick felt everyone staring at him as he tried to control his temper. He hated this woman, and everything she represented was what he detested most about modern-day medicine.
He had not realized how unhappy he was in his practice at the MED until this week in Guatemala.
Medicine ran in Nick’s blood. As a fourth-generation physician, his destiny was set when he started school. He really never thought about another career. He loved the stories of his great-grandfather riding a horse-drawn buggy to make house calls. Legend had it that his faithful horse, Smoke, would find the way home with the good doctor asleep in the buggy after being up all night with a laboring mother.
That kind of romanticized practice of medicine had given way to production charts, procedure coding, battles with insurance companies, fending off lawyers with frivolous lawsuits, and overall greed. Nick heard the sucking sound trying to pull him back to the treadmill in Memphis.
“I don’t give a flip about the poor people in Guatemala; we have plenty of poor people here in Memphis, and this is where you belong,” Anita Roe barked. “This is where your contract is.”
Nick could see her cold, merciless expression. “Well, Ms. Roe, I’m not exactly asking for your permission. I’ve already talked with my colleagues, and they’re fine with it. They’re going to pick up my call.” A long silence followed. “Look, Anita, you called me. I just want to let you know what I’m doing and that things at home are covered. I don’t know what to tell you except that I’m really needed here.”
Nick thought she had hung up. He had never used her first name before and thought he had offended her. He looked at the phone to see if he was still connected and put it back to his ear.
“Okay fine.” She was still there, and her voice had softened. “But come see me in my office when you get back.”
As he hung up the phone, Nick realized that the team around him was praying.
* * *
The next day, Maggie and Nick stood outside the exit of the airport in Guatemala City, watching the people file out with suitcases and fall into the arms of waiting loved ones. They waited anxiously for Buck and for Tod and his family to make their way through immigration and customs.
What a difference a week makes.
Last week Nick had felt like a fish out of water when he faced long lines of people seeking medical help and jabbering in Spanish. This week he was at ease with the Hope Center’s chaos; it was as though he belonged here. Even though he hated the drive over the pass with the possibility of being held up, robbed, or worse, he was comfortable with the sights, sounds, and smells of the jungle. Just the same, he was glad Joseph had come with them and brought his shotgun.
After his assault on Maria, Maggie had seen to it that Joseph was reinstated to his post. She had spoken with them both and told them that God is a God of reconciliation and encouraged them to forgive each other. In truth, Maria and Joseph were relieved of the heavy burden of guilt and shame. Nick observed the amity between them and noticed Joseph checking on Maria and the baby the night before.
* * *
“I hope they get through customs okay,” Maggie said, interrupting his thoughts. “I’ve got the team praying, but you just never know.”
“Yeah, anything can happen. Buck’s bringing a bunch of supplies for us. I don’t know what we’d do if he got delayed in customs.”
“Lord, we ask for your favor and the favor of the custom agents as our friends come through,” Maggie prayed.
“I say Amen to that.”
Maggie smiled at Nick.
Watching the exiting crowd, Nick saw the young hucksters that had accosted him on arrival in Guatemala. They were plying their trade on an elderly couple.
“Hope those folks are holding tight to their wallets.”
Then he saw the man with the badly infected leg wound lying on the ground in the same spot.
“His name is José,” she said, following his gaze
Nick wasn’t surprised she knew him. “Why doesn’t he do something about his leg?”
“I know. It’s heartbreaking, isn’t it? John stopped every time and talked with him, prayed for him, and gave him a little money. He offered many times to pack up José right then and there and take him to the Hope Center for treatment. His leg is so bad; it really needs to be amputated.”
“And the guy never wanted to go?”
“He told John that he didn’t know what he would do besides beg. That’s all he knew for the past twenty years. You remember the story of Jesus going into Jerusalem when He saw a crippled man lying by the side of the pool of Bethesda?”
“Does it have anything to do with Thing 1 and Thing 2?” Nick grinned and deflected the biblical lesson with an allusion to his mentor, Dr. Seuss.
Maggie gave him a dirty look. “You’re impossible.”
Nick sighed, knowing he had to take the medicine. “I’m afraid I don’t know that story.”
“The man had been an invalid for thirty-eight years, and Jesus asked him this crazy question: ‘Do you want to get well?’ It sounds absurd, right? Who doesn’t want to get well? But I think about it every time I see José. John and I asked him the same question, and his answer was always no. He didn’t want freedom. It’s so sad, I can hardly stand it.”
“It is sad.”
“But honestly Nick, we all tend to have a bit of that in us. Jesus is asking us all the same question. Whatever our wounds are, Jesus is asking: Do you want freedom from that bitterness, that anger, that addiction? Whatever it is, He is offering freedom.”
Before she could amplify her story, Nick waved his arm at the exiting passengers. He’d spotted Buck’s square jaw as he walked out the doors. Wearing a huge smile, Buck was pushing a large cart stacked full of plastic containers.
“Thank you, Jesus,” Maggie whispered and gave Nick’s friend the once-over. “You’re right. Buck is handsome.”
Nick rolled his eyes at her.
Maggie shrugged. “Just saying.”
But Nick’s attention had moved on. He pushed through the crowd to greet Buck when he saw Tod and his family behind his friend.