Once upon a time I had a good friend, about my age, who had one hip replacement and then another. Then a hip replacement was replaced, and tweaked, and the other one went bad, and it seemed she was forever in the hospital, relearning to walk, with one bad hip or another. One day as I was visiting I commented: I don’t know how you stand it, all this surgery, all this time hurting, all this time in the hospital. All she said was: “I think there are levels of acceptance.”

That was all she said, but those few words told me how she was getting through the long days and the even longer nights. She was engaged in a dialog with her God and saying, as best she could, “Be it done unto me according to thy will.”

The day came when we were told she would soon die and we gathered in her hospital room. She was quiet, peaceful, conversing lucidly, and in a few days joined her maker. All heroism is not on the battlefront. Day after day lives of quiet heroism are lived out around us, unhonored and unsung.

Into Thy hands, O Lord, I commit my spirit.

Well done, good and faithful servant.