Waiting Area E

Yesterday seemed like a day full of waiting. Have you ever had one of those days? It seems like you get every red light even when there are only four, every long line stuck behind the avid price-matcher, every chatty and slow moving cashier, every person actually driving the speed limit, and right now, every major intersection seems to have a massive construction project happening. That was my yesterday.

Then there was the almost three hour wait at Prism Eye Institute where my son and I sat in Waiting Area E only to find out he didn’t need the procedure he took the day off work for and we had driven all the way there for. 

The whole day felt like waiting.

While sitting in Waiting Area E, I could sense the frustration settling in at about the 2 hour mark. My son had had 2 sets of eye drops, his pupils pushing out the deep brown of each iris in preparation for the doctor to look at his retina with an excruciatingly bright light. We muttered to each other, wondering if they had forgotten us. It seemed as if all the people in Waiting Area E, as well as in neighbouring Areas D & F, had left. The once crowded space was now almost eerily spacious and it just felt...weird.

As I sat there, I was reminded of a couple of things. Not to make this a political post, but the first picture that went through my mind as my legs and back began to ache from sitting in an uncomfortable chair, my feet just barely able to touch the floor, was the multitude of men, women and children waiting at various border crossings. These humans are not waiting three hours for an eye fix, they are waiting days, weeks, months for a life fix. That was a deeply humbling reminder right there in my own Waiting Area E.

The second thing was the reminder about something I had just talked with friends about the night before. This was the practice to “be where you are" which Emily P. Freeman spends a chapter on in her book, The Next Right Thing. So I decided to be exactly where I am. I remained in my (uncomfortable) chair, put my head back on the wall, closed my eyes and listened. I just listened to where I was. Suddenly, I could hear all the quiet noises in the little rooms around me. I could hear the moving and shuffling and muttering that is the heartbeat of this office. I could hear the people doing their things, the doctors quietly opening and closing doors, a phone ringing in the distance, the click-click-click of a keyboard somewhere. Everywhere around me was life - movement and motion that kept it all going.

In that moment this waiting space became sacred space. Maybe no one else knew it, but God entered Waiting Area E yesterday afternoon. He sat down beside me. His presence pervaded my waiting and changed my perspective. His presence blew patience and humility into my soul as He ushered grace and mercy - and peace - into my waiting space. Grace for myself, my son, for our 2 other waiting companions, and for those we waited on.

Waiting isn't always easy. But when we wait with patience and grace we give God the space to be present. His presence can do a multitude of things, including changing our perspective as we quiet our souls to listen for Him. A quiet soul paves the way to knowing more of God; being still precedes the knowing. It causes us to stop and be quiet, to listen and to drink deep of the good graces and soft whispers that are offered to us in that quiet place of our souls when we pause and wait long enough to hear Him. 

Even if your physical waiting space is not quiet, invite God to join you there. Have Him pervade your waiting space and make it a sacred space, as only He can.

"Wait on the Lord. 

Be courageous, and he will strengthen your heart. 

Wait on the Lord." 

{Psalm 27:14}