The early morning breeze whistled through the pines, making its way past any outerwear and into our bundled forms that were still masked by fog and shadow. With the warmth of the rising sun trailing close behind, the pre-dawn light began stretching its golden limbs across the forest which was now slowly rousing from its short summer slumber.

In a fallen world, hospitals are perplexing places. They can represent the very best of times, such as the birth of a child, and the very worst of times, as with the death of a loved one. Indeed, life and death are so often held in the palms of a simple hospital bed.

This article marks my hundredth post on Iotas in Eternity. While one-hundred posts may not seem like very much when stood up against other writers whose output seems limitless, both quantitatively and qualitatively, it feels like a milestone for me all the same.