The Waiting Room

 

The Waiting Room 

The wondering. 

The curiosity 

The questions. 

The busy stillness. 

The quietness. 

The thinking. 

Mind racing.  

The waiting. 

The waiting room is not a comfortable quiet space. It’s a place of anticipation.  It’s a place to sit still but the mind is anything but still.  It’s a place where you know you are appointed but time and other people are obstacles.  The constant interruptions of others being called from their place of waiting only brings more attention to the fact that you’re still there, uncalled, and still waiting.   

I’ve done my part.  I’ve showed up.  I’m in my position.   Why the wait?   

It becomes almost offensive.  If I have an appointment time, why can’t I just go in at that time. My time is important! 

My whole day is now delayed because of this wait. I looked around searching for meaning.  Others, perhaps, annoyed as well but I’m isolated and don’t care to connect to their frustration because I have my own.  There are no true companions in the waiting room.  Waiting rooms are faced alone. And these days, the mask only add to the intensity of the wait.  

I tried to keep mental tabs on who was there before me and imagine when the door swings open next, it would be my name called. Someone who came in after me was called before me.  I wondered why.  Was their appointment earlier but yet they showed up later?  Is that fair?   Then, I began to plot and plan how I would run the scheduling and appointments if I was in charge.  I sat debating whether or not I should ask how much longer but fearing it may cause a scene in the silent solemn waiting room. 

Then I saw her.  Off in a corner she sat.  She had a soft countenance and didn’t seem too concerned about the long wait times. She had a long needle and a bag of yarn and her hands were busy winding stitch after stitch.  

Something beautiful was being created.  Although, I’m not certain, I believe it was a blanket.  The colors slowly shifted into different shades and the designs and patterns were captivating. Some stitches looked like rainbows, others were more like seashells. 

Her relaxed demeanor was convicting.  As I sat restless and anxious, she appeared comfortable and calm.  It’s almost as if she was enjoying herself.  Surely not! How could anyone enjoy the wasted time of this waiting room. 

My mind wandered:

If I could just get through this, I could get through that and then get back to my normal life.  

Almost instantly as she tucked her needle in her bag, they call her back. “Mrs. Anah.” The nurse at the door sounded happy to see her.  I could even see a smile in her eyes and the outline of a grin from behind her mask. Anah quickly gathered her canvas bag of yarn and her purse and headed to the door.  She gently patted the nurse on the arm and said, “How are you”.  The nurse giggled, “I’m good, how are YOU?”

One of the receptionists that checked me in lifted from her seat and stretched above the plexy-glass barricade, “Bye Mrs Anah, see you tomorrow”. 

Ahhh, she was a regular customer.  They all knew her by name.  She must have to come here a lot.  Then, the silence of the waiting room was interrupted by an abrupt celebration behind the walls.   There was a bell ringing. We all looked around curiously.  The receptionist bolted out of her seat and disappeared into the hallway behind her.  She came back smiling and rejoicing.  She happily told her co-worker, Mrs. Anah is cancer free!! 

A few minutes later Anah came back through the doors.  The bag of yarn was empty and in her hands was a beautiful blanket.  She presented it to them, the ladies ooohed and ahhhed over it.   It was absolutely beautiful handiwork. I couldn’t see all of the details but it looked like there was an inscription.  They thanked her for it and after several quick hugs and high-fives and hand shakes, she was gone.  

The lively chatter slowly died back down and things went back to business as usual.  It wasn’t long and my name was called.  The As I was leaving, they were hanging the beautiful blanket on a blank wall in the waiting room.  

As it was stretched out, I could read the words on the middle of the blanket, “Hope is Found Here.”  

Hope.  Hope.  Hope.  

Hope!  That was it.  The waiting room is a place of HOPE!!  Hope of healing, hope of treatment, hope of Life, hope of help, hope of a future!   

So, Whatever WAITING ROOM you find yourself in, whether it is for a companion, a ministry, a physical healing, etc, learn to build on HOPE.   Put your hands to work building hope for someone else.   Don’t fight the waiting room.  Don’t huff and puff.   Don’t pace and waste your time.   Get a bag of yarn and start being the emblem of Hope for yourself and for those around you and for those who will come after you.  

The name Anah means a master of patience and perseverence.  

Hope has come.  Hope is here.  Connect to Hope in your waiting room!