“[Jesus] presence in human flesh sweeps away forever the evil notion that there is about the human body something innately offensive to the Deity. God created our bodies, and we do not offend Him by placing the responsibility where it belongs. He is not ashamed of the work of His own hands.” -A. W. Tozer
I remember reading this statement, and others like it, in Tozer’s works. I remember his comparison of God to the tenderest of nurses, willing to sit by the bedside of those with even the most humbling diseases. The fact that God is not ashamed of the work of His hands brought my own shame to light. Yes, I lived perhaps like many women, ashamed of my body. I think because my body made me vulnerable.
Dr. Rachael McCabe, an OB/GYN, understands this. I have had the privilege of getting to know her over some of her lunch breaks. To sit across a table and talk with her is a privilege. Her posture, her eyes, and her gestures all communicate one thing: she is listening.
But the thing I have noticed most about her is that she listens especially to what you do not say.
As a skilled physician and surgeon, I imagine that what a woman does not say could at times tell her more. She asks probing questions of your silence and notes demeanor and mannerisms in order to see the whole person.
Her gentle gaze, astute questions, and easy presence create a safe space for women during some of the most vulnerable times in their lives. But this way of being doesn’t seem awkwardly acquired in medical practice. It is naturally how she orients herself to others. This way of being has shaped her into an excellent doctor, and a dear friend. I have benefited from Rachael’s uncanny perceptiveness and calm persistence. She has patiently listened to my struggles and gently offered clarity when I could not see well.
With a hint of love for her job in her voice, she relayed a story of a woman contending with medical decisions. She admitted that the experience frustrated her. Her expertise led her to clearly see the solution to her patient’s debilitating health issues, but her advice seemed unheeded. Still, she cared for her patient tenderly over the months. Then the day came when the woman finally agreed to pursue the course of treatment Rachael had been recommending. Her patient looked at her and said, “Thank you for struggling with me to get me here.”
That’s it. The art of care is staying with others in the struggle.
Rachael endeavors to struggle alongside women in their weakest moments to bring them to safety. She knows that the foundation for her practice is trust, and she strives to create a place where the women who come to her for help are fully seen and fully heard. She sees how physical brokenness leads to broken relationships, and as a physician, she endeavors to offer healing in all respects. She takes the tools of science and gently uses them to bring forth new life. Not just babies, but women freed from shameful maladies to live in wholeness.
As many women know, bringing forth new life puts one in a position of utter vulnerability. So also the most intimate issues surrounding what many deem the “less honorable” parts of our bodies. Medical practice transforms into the art of healing in Rachael’s skilled, caring hands. Her work reminds us that the Lord is not ashamed of our bodies. He is the God who sees and hears. It is His pleasure to step into the struggle with us to bring about new life and wholeness, even in our most shameful and vulnerable places.
Thank you, Rachael, for staying with us in the struggle. I pray the Lord will continue to cause you to rejoice in all forms of new life, both in this age and in the next.
Comments