Much of today was spent sitting in a large room, looking out a bank of floor to ceiling windows, waiting and watching. Looking out and thinking how beautiful the sunshine is on the snow, wishing that I could be out there. Thankful though that I have a place to go, to be monitored and able to live a full life. Waiting for my name to be called and listening to the ones that were. Patricia Williams, Patricia Pure, I told my mom it must be the Patricia hour. Having mine called and completely butchered. I understand that one though. It took my mom until my fifth year of marriage before she finally said it effortlessly. And she really is one smart cookie!
The watching part was the best. Upon entering the hospital, there sat an elderly man, one empty seat, and an elderly woman. Both were fast asleep. I wondered out loud to my mom how long had they been waiting! The two little ones there with their g'ma and mom. Playing with the waiting room toys and finally submitting to the pent up energy - running and chasing each other down the hall. Whispering rather loudly, "We're going to get in trouble". They never did.
Eyes really are the window to the soul, even across a large room. The fear, the unknown, the love, it's all there. Even under the strain of the unknown, persons are friendlier, more tolerant, display affection easier, open and interested in others. Not to be in their business, but to really know - how are you - to a complete stranger.
And in some, the hope. How often you are able to identify someone, who walks in Christ, sitting in a waiting room. The emotions are kept in control by His unexplainable peace.
I left there with news that I have to return in a month instead of three. I left there with something else though:
Why is it that the goodness of man usually is mostly seen when in a waiting room? Why not in the room of living life?
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