The Lord may work in mysterious ways, but the Fat Lady has some questions. Now, she gets that it's all part of a master plan, and moreover, she shouldn't question it lest a lightning bolt should smack her in the head the next time she goes out in the rain.
But in her quest to be a decent human being who wants to learn from all this, she'd just like to know:
God, what were you thinking? Because the truth is, I'm having a rough time reconciling the fact that my friend's wonderful kid has a brainstem tumor and will not be blowing out candles on a homemade cake tomorrow, but will instead be meeting with a pediatric neurosurgeon. This kid is a shining light and the possibilities astound me.
If you are inclined to whack someone and make her parents miserable, couldn't you choose someone more, well, deserving?
Now I understand that means I'm stepping into Your Territory and therefore I'll shut up. But I'd appreciate any consideration--a miracle cure, a brilliant surgeon with all the answers, a scientist who figures out the right combo of chemo, radiation, and popsicles. You have the power. For the sake of everyone who's ever even heard of this child, use it.
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