Cassandra and some stranger

I've been struggling with what to type about this post for a couple of days. Her name is Cassandra, she is a nurse who takes people's blood and health information for various life insurance companies. My wife and I are in the midst of finding new life insurance quotes and some of the requirements are to go through extensive medical history questions and to get blood work done. This is all to find out what tier we fall into, healthwise/riskwise, which affects what our premium will be. But this is beside the point I want to make. Cassandra was appointed to come and take our blood.

She has very little hair and I suspect she is going through treatments to battle cancer. Early on in our conversation she says this is the case. The chemotherapy makes her very jittery, which you might think would make me nervous, but I am as calm as (or perhaps calmer than) normal when getting my blood work done. I can only feel sympathy.

She takes our blood and paperwork and heads to her next appointment. About five minutes after she leaves, Carrie notices she left the bag that had the disposable stuff (needles, gloves, etc.) on our table. Luckily, I have her number on caller ID to find out what we're supposed to do about it. She answers and tells me to leave it on our doorstep for her to pick up later.

When she comes back, she said she forgot something else...voided checks for the company to make automatic withdrawals from our account for the monthly premium. So she would have had to have come back anyway. She follows this up (lightly) with, "Everything happens for a reason, you know." Not thinking much about her comment, I say, "Yeah." Then she points to her bald head and says, "Even this," chokes up and walks out the door. I'm speechless. I get the urge to go pray with her but when I act on this she is already driving away. What would I have prayed? I don't know. Probably not something theologically correct, but I know sharing some sort of compassion without being preachy would've helped somehow. Is there really "a reason" for her to have cancer?

When Sam was born and they did the hearing test when he was 2 days old, he barely didn't pass (not uncommon for babies born 4 weeks before their due date). So we had to go back 2 weeks later, and he passed it with flighing colors. The test was in the same place and we waited in the waiting room where the extended family and friends wait for newborn babies. Only in the room there was a middle aged man whose face was red from tears. His daughter, who was 24 weeks pregnant or so, had just lost her baby. And we received good news that day. I actually prayed with him. I don't remember what I prayed, except that God would help the family grieve. Is there really "a reason" for such a loss?

In instances like these, I believe we are pragmatically challenged with the problem of evil and suffering. And in these instances, our best response is not going to be some thereotical or hypothetical reasoning. The best response to the problem of evil and suffering is action, not answers. Acting in compassion (literally, "suffering with") with those have lost or are losing something or someone. When members of my family have died, what spoke volumes of people's care was not what they said but what they did. When Bill and Sharon go to get a gallon of milk, when Bob and Karyn (the funeral home directors) are there and not just to talk about arrangements, when John Forrest grabs you and hugs you while you are breaking down, you are reminded of goodness with the face of compassion, though not excusing it, is present in the midst of suffering.