Thoughts While Sitting in a Hospital Waiting Room

Matt Redman's song, "10 000 Reasons is amazing, isn't it?  My, we like to belt it out.  Until it comes true.

"The sun comes up; it's a new day dawning.

It's time to sing your song again.

Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me

Let me be singing when the evening comes:

Bless the Lord, O my soul."

Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me.  The thing is, I don't usually expect anything to pass except a normal day.  I don't expect anything to lie before me except the plans I had all laid out.

And then the late-night phone call comes.

And in a matter of seconds, everything changes.

And I find myself sitting in a hospital waiting room, with a lot of time to think, and a lot of time to pray, and no mental space to do either, and blessing the Lord is not necessarily the nearest thing on my mind.  It's one of those times where I'm relying on the Holy Spirit to intercede with groans on my behalf, because, really, I have been struck quite speechless by the sudden turn of events.  My mind skitters and turns, latching onto the ludicrous, missing the most obvious.

I'm eating an orange, not because I'm hungry.  I haven't been hungry all day.  My mind is disconnected.  I know I like oranges.  I know this orange is a treat -- a blood orange, one I'd normally savour.  I peel it.  I section it.  I eat it.  Mechanically.  I taste nothing.  I'm not even hungry.  I'm eating it because I don't know what else to do.

I read a book.  I read all the words.  I understand all the words.  I turn page after page.  But I have no idea what I'm reading.  The words are merely white noise drowning out a little of the cacophony of my thoughts.  When I get through this, I will throw the book away.  I never want to read it again, even though I have no idea what I've read.

The time creeps by endlessly, one second at a time.  How can one minute stretch into a week? Is no news good news?  Is no news bad news?  Does it mean something's happened, and they're waiting until they fix the disaster before telling us?  Nothing is happening.  There's no disaster.  It's ok.  Oh, God, let it be ok.  It could be a disaster.  NO.  NO!!  Shut UP!!  God . . . !  GOD!!  How can my heart be pounding so hard and the whole world not hear it?  How can it be pounding so hard and it not just burst out of my chest?

The sun is setting.  When did the sun begin to set?  I just got here.  How long have I been here?  Has the sun been shining all day, and I have been looking out of the window all day, and I have never noticed that the sun is shining?  And now a whole day of sunshine has slipped by and the sun is setting, and still I am sitting here?  How did this happen?

Where did all the people go?  This room was packed when we got here.  There's hardly anyone left.  What were they all waiting for?  Why are they gone already and I'm still here?  Is there something wrong?  Is it taking longer than it should?  No, NO, NO!!  No, shut UP!  God . . . !  GOD!!  It's ok.  It's ok.  It's gonna be ok.

But I've been down this path before.  And it wasn't ok.  It was all so dreadfully wrong.

And there is grief still to be grieved.

It is amazing how experiences carve pathways in the brain.  Years can fill the pathways with dust and debris, but in just the right circumstances, the dust and debris are blown away, and the pathway lies exactly as it was left, with all its old potholes and roadblocks and undiscovered treasures.  The heart finds the pathway familiar and follows it without thought.The heart is not recognising that this is not the same path.  It looks and feels and sounds and smells so familiar.  It stumbles over the same potholes.  It misses the scenic vistas.  It follows without examining where it goes.  It assumes an outcome because it's travelled the path before. 

But it is a different path.  The old paths need to be examined,  not just blown over with the dust and debris of time, to come back to life like a dormant seed in the desert, waiting for the storm of life to water it and give it new root. Potholes and roadblocks need to be filled in with truth. Treasures need to be uncovered and enjoyed.  New outcomes are possible.  Hope . . . hope is possible.

And this song comes on:

"I’m tired, I’m worn.
My heart is heavy
From the work it takes
To keep on breathing.
I’ve made mistakes;
I’ve let my hope fail.
My soul feels crushed
By the weight of this world.

And I know that you can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left:

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn ..."

Make it so, Lord.

Amen.