I’ve recently met again with Nate’s cancer doctor, Dr. Ross Abrams. In the last two years he’s graciously agreed to meet every few months, 5 times in all since Nate died. Each time we’ve had an interesting and challenging conversation in his hospital office.

This time, as I approached the Rush University Medical Center where Nate and I first learned of his terminal cancer, it was hard not to let my feelings wander. I knew if they did, they’d head toward melancholy, since every hospital memory, including 14 radiation treatments and multiple scans, was tainted with the disease that ended in death.

But I found myself once again in the radiation department surrounded by cancer patients, grateful for the sensitive, expert treatment Nate received when we were there. Dr. Abrams had much to do with that.

Although he and I are about the same age, we have little in common. His strengths are in medicine, and I generally avoid doctor’s offices. He’s methodical and deep, while I’m slapdash and flighty. Most significantly, Dr. Abrams is an Orthodox Jew and I am a Christian. One of his sons is a rabbi, and several of mine have been on missions for Christ. Yet two years after we first met under the stressful conditions of stage 4 cancer, we’ve become friends, because we’ve found some common ground on which to meet.

In the beginning it was all about his patient, my husband. We had a shared concern for Nate’s best welfare and tried to get him through his vicious cancer without being overwhelmed by suffering, though we both knew his disease would eventually conquer. Dr. Abrams remembers Nate as a strong, courageous man who endured suffering bravely. This means a great deal to me, and I’ve appreciated him telling me that.

The doctor and I have also shared common ground in enjoying our big families, and I’ve become acquainted with his wife and children through the line-up of 8” x 10” photographs on his office shelves. He’s winning at the grandchildren game, though, his 10 to my almost-6. But as he says, “It’s not a competition.”

We’ve also shared common ground in our love of Scripture, and both of us relate to God the Father as his children, although in different ways. As we participate in our conversations, I often wonder what God is thinking about the two of us. Both of us trace our start to Adam and Eve, and because they were both made in God’s image, Dr. Abrams and I were, too. In this we are the same.

Both of us are also recipients of God’s love. The Father does, I believe, desire to forgive us both from personal sin and restore us to himself, when sin causes us to break fellowship with him.

I look forward to our future conversations, particularly as they relate to faith matters, and know God has specific things in mind to teach both of us through our friendship.

”Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love.” (Lamentations 3:32)