I have always thought of God as an abstract concept. Something people define in different ways, something hard to explain, something I don’t always know how to name.

But sometimes, God feels less abstract.

Sometimes God feels like the surgeon on a flight who comes forward when there is a medical emergency. Sometimes God feels like an airline medical kit that has exactly what is needed at exactly the right time. Sometimes God feels like the staff and doctors who do not know you personally, but still show up with urgency, skill, and kindness.

My dad had a medical emergency during his flight. I was not there with him in that moment, but even hearing about it later made my heart sink. He needed a catheter placed, and thankfully there was a surgeon on the flight who was able to help. I cannot fully express how grateful I am for that doctor. I am also so grateful to Singapore Airlines for having a catheter in their medical kit. It is one of those things you never think about until one day your family needs it.

In that moment, those people were God-like to me.

The surgeon who helped. The flight staff who responded. The doctors and medical staff who later guided us. These are the people who make you believe that goodness exists in very real, practical, life-saving ways.

After landing, my parents had to go through a long immigration line. I wish they had told the officer or the ground staff that there had been a medical emergency and that my dad needed to get home urgently. Maybe someone would have helped them move faster. But I also understand why they did not say anything. Language barriers are real. Fear around these official processes is real. Sometimes when you are in a new country, tired from travel, and unsure of what is allowed, you just quietly stand in line and hope to get through.

They also got delayed at customs. They had declared that they were not carrying any goods, but my mom passed ahead and my dad got stuck behind. The customs officer was upset that my mom had walked away, and they made a note on my dad’s passport so he may get screened each time they visit.

I understand that immigration and customs rules are important. I understand that these processes exist to keep a country safe. But it still hurt to know how urgently my dad needed to reach home, and how helpless he must have felt standing there through one more delay.

Once he finally got home, we took him to urgent care. They recommended placing another catheter for two weeks. We were relieved that we were able to get care quickly. We were relieved that there was a next step. We were relieved that he was home.

Through all of this, my dad remained incredibly calm. Not once did he share his own frustration with us. Not once did he make us feel worse about what he had gone through. My brother was anxious. I was stressed. It was difficult for me to witness and process because my parents’ health has been good so far, and I have never really had to deal with this kind of emergency with them.

I know things could have been much worse. I know this was not the biggest medical emergency in the world. But when it is your parent, even a smaller emergency feels enormous.

It also made me think about privilege. We were able to take him to urgent care. We were able to get medical advice. We were able to access supplies, doctors, and follow-up care. That is not true for everyone. There are so many people who lack access to basic medical care, who have to wait, suffer, travel far, or simply go without help. Feeling grateful also made me feel heavy, because access to care should not feel like luck.

And then there is the quieter realization underneath all of this: my parents are aging.

Long travel is not easy on their bodies anymore. What once felt like a tiring journey now feels like something that needs planning, caution, and prayer. It made me see them differently, not as weak, but as human. As people whose bodies have carried them through so much and now need more care, more patience, more softness from all of us.

A few days after all of this happened, I went to the Jain temple to offer my gratitude and prayer. I needed that quiet moment. I needed to sit with everything that had happened, with the fear, the relief, the helplessness, and the thankfulness.

I am grateful my dad is okay. I am grateful for the surgeon on that flight. I am grateful for Singapore Airlines being prepared. I am grateful for the staff and doctors who helped. I am grateful we could get him care.

And today, that gratitude feels like prayer.