Nicole’s e-Pistle “Peace Among Chaos”

September 16, 2026

Greetings, Friends!

The Jiskoots are all back under one roof again, and we are all doing well. During our stay at Memorial Hospital in Chattanooga, I got to know the layout of the hospital pretty well. I can tell you which floors have the best vending machines. I can tell you the importance of getting down to the cafeteria before they pull the hot food off the line after the lunch rush. I can tell you they don’t make fresh tea at the Subway, but that you can get a late night sandwich very easily.

What I cannot exactly describe to you in words what rested behind the looks on people’s faces as I walked the halls in search of sustenance. Sometimes I perceived worry, sometimes resignation, sometimes an urgency to get to a patient in need, and often a mirrored reflection of my own face as they tried to navigate the hamster trail that is the second floor. Several people spoke to me, most nodded their heads in passing, and one particularly helpful gentleman on the elevator asked me how I was doing with Jesus. (I told him we were pretty close and that I was a pastor… he gave me some suggestions of an online church that I should follow.)

Of all the interactions and experiences I had, the one that struck me most was seeing a child, probably about seven or eight years old, stretched out on a bench in the surgical waiting area. He or she was covered almost entirely by a fleece blanket, from the top of the head to the ankles. There were no adults seated nearby, though there was one tucked into the opposite corner. I told myself that they must be with the child and that I didn’t need to worry or raise any kind of alarm. I continued on my way to the cafeteria, and on my way back, the child was still there in the same position. I smiled to myself and returned to our room in the north tower.

Of all the places for a child to find a place to rest… it was my experience that little resting happens at the hospital, except for those under anesthesia. Psalm 4:8 says, “I will both lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord, make me lie down in safety.” I do not know who the child was there to visit. I don’t know which loved one might have been undergoing surgery or for what. I don’t know if the family is religious or whether their faith lies in other things besides God. What I do know is that in the midst of whatever life had thrown at that little one, he or she found a way to lie down in safety, to sleep in peace, and it was God who held not only that child, but every heart and soul that came through those hospital doors. In the midst of chaos and uncertainty, I felt God’s peace in every corner and corridor.

I thank God for being with us this past week, and I thank all of you for your prayers and well-wishes. You were there with us, too, like beams of light reminding us that God was in control.

May God bless you and keep you all, and may you find God’s peace today and always!