The Waiting Room

The Waiting Room

7-18-17

Waiting rooms. They look the same in every country. Regardless of the language drifting around you the room is the same. 

Walls stand as witnesses to the countless hearts pounding. Waiting for news. Waiting to read the faces of the staff as they come out the  doors. Are they smiling? Or they worried? What does it mean? Waiting for the ones who know to come in and give us answers we so desperately seek. Too often they have none....

We don't wait patiently. Sometimes we sit and think " Hurry up! What could be taking so long? Don't you know we are dying with worry out here?" Sometimes my mind even doubts those behind the door. Do they really know what they are doing? What if they never come out?

Chairs hold bodies in expectation. Some hunched over in resignation. Others with tapping feet and drumming fingers. Anxiety leaking out of all extremities. 

Chairs can't hold all. Some pace and stand and shift back and forth. Worry and fear manifested in motion. The carpet shows signs of wear on the preferred pathways of pacing 

The table holds a worn bible and a rosary. How many times have worried hands leafed thru those thin pages seeking hope. Comfort. Guidance? How many times have those smooth beads been pressed between fearful palms?

All waiting rooms are the same really. Expectant faces. Waiting for the words that everything is ok. Better. 

The stories waiting here. Each person holds a person in their heart. A story in their mind. Each one is the only one for each one. So much pain. Walking in their own shoes no one knows the reality of another yet we all share a commonality. Wishing we weren't here. Wishing they weren't here. Wishing for the "before". 

Beside me sits an elderly Hispanic man. Hair seasoned with grey, face lined. He has a distinguished hard working air about him. Clean trimmed fingernails end calloused fingers drumming on the knees of well worn jeans. Head bowed, brown eyes filled with worry. He lifts his eyes expectantly every time the door opens. He is worried. He is.... all of us. Our eyes meet. We do not share the same language yet our hearts connect in understanding. He nods. I smile. We wait. 

I am reminded as I sit here in this room of waiting that our lives are really spent in a similar  " room". This earth is our waiting room. Filled with anxiety, fear, hoping, worrying. Waiting for those doors to open and those who know who can change things to come thru and tell us everything is going to be ok. 

Our lives here on earth are a preamble. An existence without all the information.  The other side holds answers. Plans. Understanding. We wait here in the room or torture and our minds conjure up all kinds of imagery. Ask all kinds of questions. Fear all kinds of monsters. 

It is not until the doors to this earthy waiting room burst open and the King strides threw arms open certainty and hope on his face. We wait to see that face. The ones who brings the answers to our questions. Why? Why her? Why this? Why didn't You? 

His face holds the peace we yearn to see. That everything is going to be ok and we can take that deep breathe and our hearts can beat again. We know that with that entrance we can leave this waiting room and go to the real place. Where we no longer wait for the other shoe to fall. 

And so we wait here. In this earthly room of waiting. Until the doors open and heaven is our reality. Please Come soon Jesus. 

#foreverhersis

She smelled of Doritos and a hint of frankincense. As I held her close and whispered how much I love her... Golden hair in what used to be bouncing ponytail beneath a Team Julianna hat. Pink shirt with Gold sparkling heart we bought her and her fan around her neck.

She shouldn't be driving away. She shouldn't be headed to yet another foreign country to fight for her life. It is dark and cold and early. There is nothing her Mommy and Daddy want to do more then scoop her up and tuck her in bed safe. This world is not safe. Not for her. Not for anyone.

Cancer changes every tiny part of your life.

Her breathe is warm against my cheek. I feel her strong pulse against my chest as I hug her tightly. She is brave when she doesn't feel like it. When she doesn't want to be. I wish I could do this for her....

Her giggle whispers in my ear when I tell her the healthy snacks Nana brought. She is worried about her wheelchair that is being shipped. We joke about how Daddy said it will probably pass them in the air as it is to be shipped here today. I promise that we will do whatever we can to get it to her asap. She says "Really Sissy?" I say "absolutely!" Inside I am thinking "Baby girl I will fly to the moon and back if you need me to."

I love her. She is my special girl. Our hearts seek to care for others even when we are struggling. She is an angel.

More hugs. Hurried. Desperate. Faining assurance I wave and smile! More I love you's. Promises to call and text and and and.... my hand reaches for my fence to keep me upright as I close the van door. The van holding my whole world backs up gravel crunching. Hands waving. Kisses tossed. I love you's ringing. I smile and give a thumbs up. You got this baby girl!

Glad she can't see my tears. Glad she only sees my smile.

Darkness descends quickly as the vans lights bump down the road. "Jesus go with them..."

She smells of Doritos and a hint of frankincense. I will hold that hug in my heart until I can hold her again in my arms.

#foreverhersis