Today I spent some time with a skin doctor here in Michigan who’s gradually becoming my friend. She’s invited me to call her by her first name (Deborah), which is a good thing since she runs her hands over every square inch of me.

Today Deborah was on a meticulous hunt for sun damage and skin cancer. Although the word “cancer” floods me with negatives, the words “skin cancer” have been part of our family since Mom began having spots removed 20 years ago.

Being raised on a Lake Michigan beach had numerous advantages, but the one disadvantage was a slow, steady assault on our youthful skin at a time when sun screens hadn’t been invented. We viewed sunburns as a happy signal that summer had arrived, and our parents believed a burn would eventually morph into the “base” for a safe and healthy tan. And tans, they thought, protected our skin for the rest of the summer.

We all know better now and have sun screens galore. Skin damage, though, is permanent, and beach lovers of my generation are all dotted with it. When I arrived home after my appointment, several projects awaited, one of which was reframing a few photographs. Amazingly, God linked one of them to my skin travails. I’d just had 11 pre-cancerous spots removed and was feeling decrepit, but he encouraged me with a lovely thought.

My very favorite “last picture” of Nate from all those taken during the 42 days he had cancer, had needed a better frame. It’s been sitting atop his high boy dresser in our bedroom as a daily reminder of my good history with him. This afternoon as I set the newly framed picture back in its spot next to a plaque Mary had given me, I caught my breath. I’d seen the picture hundreds of times and the plaque, too, but not until today, after a doctor’s appointment reminded me of my decline, did I link the two.

The plaque says, “The LORD your God is with you.”

Looking at Nate and I together in the picture, it struck me that the two of us now relate to that plaque in radically different ways. Although I know God is with me, his presence isn’t literal. Nate believes the statement, too, but for him it’s literally true.

Receiving that thought from the Lord lifted my sinking spirits, which had been completely focused on the inevitability of physical deterioration. It reminded me that one day bodily wear and tear will end for me, too, just as it has for Nate.

I hope I can  hang onto that positive thought long enough not to worry about what’s going to happen 6 months from now. That’s when Deborah is expecting me to swing by for another intimate visit.

“We know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead will also raise us with Jesus. Therefore we do not lose heart.” (2 Corinthians 4:14,16)