My daughter and I will sometimes lead church services at nursing homes when my parents, who typically serve in this capacity every week, are out of town. And during one of these instances, a sweet elderly lady said, “You remind me of George…George Harrison from the Beatles… you look just like him!”

Although this sweetheart was apparently on a first-name basis with the Beatles’ guitarist, a quick Google search will clearly reveal that she likely had untreated cataracts, grabbed someone else’s glasses, and/or had left her hearing aids in her room that day. But at least it was nice to receive a compliment rather than unsolicited criticism about my hair!

Similarly, someone recently compared something I had written to the incomparable C.S. Lewis. I’m under no delusion that any of my musings are even worthy of the same stratosphere in which Lewis resided during his time on this planet, but although the juxtaposition was questionable, it sure was a nice thing to say.

And briefly, I imagined Uncle Screwtape encouraging Wormwood to convince clinicians that using 10-Year Risk Calculators was sufficient for cardiovascular risk assessment…and I could almost see the Pevensie children walking through the wardrobe into the Lipid Neighborhood…but then I came crashing back to reality.

And even though the chances of anything I write being considered a classic is about as likely as the Beatles asking me to play guitar on their Reunion Tour, I’ll continue to splash color on the canvas of life by way of a literary palette. Because, as Lewis said:

“Whenever you are fed up with life, start writing: ink is the great cure for all human ills.”