The Surgeon in the Laundry Room

Maria Vargas works the overnight shift in the laundry facility at Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago. She folds fitted sheets with mechanical precision, sorts surgical gowns by department, and rarely speaks to anyone beyond her small crew. Most staff who pass her in the basement hallway have no idea that Maria graduated top of her class from the University of San Carlos medical school in Guatemala City. She performed over three hundred surgeries before fleeing violence in 2018.

Her diplomas are tucked in a manila envelope in her apartment on West Diversey. Her surgical skill lives in hands that now fold linens. Her identity as a healer is real but hidden — concealed beneath a language barrier and a stack of recertification paperwork she studies every morning before bed.

Maria does not live as though the laundry room defines her. She reads medical journals on the L train. She practices suturing technique on chicken thighs at her kitchen table. Her mind is set on who she truly is and who she is becoming again.

Paul tells the Colossians that when we were raised with Christ, our deepest identity changed — but the world cannot yet see it. "Your life is hidden with Christ in God." We fold the linens. We sit in traffic. We look ordinary. But set your mind on what is above, because one day, when Christ who is your life appears, the hidden glory of who you really are will be revealed. You are not defined by the basement. You were made for the operating room of eternity.