Good observations, Lee - I find waiting rooms to be an interesting place, too. It’s sad that people so easily stare at their phones and disengage these days. We used to talk to one another, which helped to calm us and share encouragement about medical issues. I try to talk to the person next to me if it seems like they are open to conversation.
I loved this! I just spent a day in emerge.i was the unruly patient who was in so much pain she pulled chairs together to make a bed and paced the hall moaning. Thankfully they took me quickly and gave me pain meds. The day before I was in the lab and my husband carried little Oscar in with his bright blue eyes, toothy smile and head full of curls. All the elderly ladies perked up and gooed and gahed at him to his joy! It's amazing hoy people respond to a baby! I was happy to see how much it brightened their day!
Waiting rooms are full of peace-giving opportunities and God's boomerang moments! Here's one unusual waiting room moment from my Be the Miracle stories -The Fear-Fighting Hug
Tears and trembling and wide-eyed fear characterized my youngest grandchildren’s faces on their first visit to Children’s Hospital to see their brother, David, who had cancer.
“Why are there so many cars in the parking lot, Gramma?”
Discovering most of those cars represented family and friends like them who were visiting a very ill child, oppressed them into silence. The views of children in various states of pre and post surgery being moved about the halls, and later, meeting the children and their families, gave us a thorough education in the recognition of pain and fear. It was also the perfect opportunity to teach the children how God’s love had already conquered that fear and every reason to feel fear. Feeling fear is the feeling of being out of God’s arms. Using that fear as a reminder to run to His embrace through prayer helped the children cope with their natural fears regarding their own future as well as that of others.
This time I was picking up David and his mom from the hospital x-ray area, and easily found the waiting room, following a silver-haired African-American man carrying twin toddlers. He sat down and held the girls, one on each knee. One girl appeared frail and listless, and the more robust twin was crying and would not allow her grandpa to comfort her.
I swear God pushed me toward her to give her a hug. I put out my arms like I would to my own child or grandchild. I’d like to pray for her, I requested. The man apologized that she never goes to strangers, hardly to other family members, then blinked in astonishment as she looked up, lifted her arms, and settled onto my chest, embracing me tightly.
Tenderly crooning to her, I sensed her need and prayed for her peace and healing as we paced back and forth across the waiting room. The little one had stopped crying and seemed to listen to the prayers winged to heaven on behalf of her and her family. I thought of Nehemiah 4:14 When he saw their fear, he told his people, “Do not be afraid…remember the Lord who is great and awesome.” And so I whispered to this little one that Jesus had sent a hug through me and she should not be afraid, for the Great and Awesome One was with her.
The man turned toward the elevator as a surprised grandmother exited, glancing between him and me and the now contented little one. Simultaneously, our grandson returned from his test and I moved to return the baby to her grandparents. A quick word of comfort regarding God’s care for them, and Nehemiah’s prayer that I’d shared with the little girl brightened their eyes.
A nurse arrived, remarking that the child’s contentment was unusual, and we turned toward the elevator. The little family waved goodbye, their thanks and blessings ringing in our ears as the elevator doors closed.
“What was that about, Gramma?” David asked, always sensitive to experiences of others. “Did you know those people?”
I shared the story of God directing me to comfort that little one, and each person’s response. “Good,” he whispered. “And you wouldn’t have been here to do that if I didn’t need these tests would you?”
I looked up into eyes that exposed an unselfish heart once again seeing beyond its’ own needs. This young man whose faith had taught me to trust my fears to the Lord, reached around my shoulders and pulled me into him for a side hug. “I didn’t realize,” I teased, so I wouldn’t cry, “that a fear-fighting-Jesus-hug had a boomerang in it.” His slow smile matched his quiet response, “Every time.”
Love this. I spent 6 hours in the waiting room this week too. I like to pray there, and I did for all the people including my daughter who was the patient. We gave encouragement to a very patient daddy who was trying his best to calm a cranky sick toddler. It was a long 6 hours but fruitful for the prayers were going up, rising like incense.
Good observations, Lee - I find waiting rooms to be an interesting place, too. It’s sad that people so easily stare at their phones and disengage these days. We used to talk to one another, which helped to calm us and share encouragement about medical issues. I try to talk to the person next to me if it seems like they are open to conversation.
Love this. Engage whenever possible.
I loved this! I just spent a day in emerge.i was the unruly patient who was in so much pain she pulled chairs together to make a bed and paced the hall moaning. Thankfully they took me quickly and gave me pain meds. The day before I was in the lab and my husband carried little Oscar in with his bright blue eyes, toothy smile and head full of curls. All the elderly ladies perked up and gooed and gahed at him to his joy! It's amazing hoy people respond to a baby! I was happy to see how much it brightened their day!
So sorry to hear about the amount of pain you were in. Any better now?
Kids and pets are real connecting points. So cool that little Oscar brightened their day.
Yes, it resolved itself and I avoided surgery.
Waiting rooms are full of peace-giving opportunities and God's boomerang moments! Here's one unusual waiting room moment from my Be the Miracle stories -The Fear-Fighting Hug
Tears and trembling and wide-eyed fear characterized my youngest grandchildren’s faces on their first visit to Children’s Hospital to see their brother, David, who had cancer.
“Why are there so many cars in the parking lot, Gramma?”
Discovering most of those cars represented family and friends like them who were visiting a very ill child, oppressed them into silence. The views of children in various states of pre and post surgery being moved about the halls, and later, meeting the children and their families, gave us a thorough education in the recognition of pain and fear. It was also the perfect opportunity to teach the children how God’s love had already conquered that fear and every reason to feel fear. Feeling fear is the feeling of being out of God’s arms. Using that fear as a reminder to run to His embrace through prayer helped the children cope with their natural fears regarding their own future as well as that of others.
This time I was picking up David and his mom from the hospital x-ray area, and easily found the waiting room, following a silver-haired African-American man carrying twin toddlers. He sat down and held the girls, one on each knee. One girl appeared frail and listless, and the more robust twin was crying and would not allow her grandpa to comfort her.
I swear God pushed me toward her to give her a hug. I put out my arms like I would to my own child or grandchild. I’d like to pray for her, I requested. The man apologized that she never goes to strangers, hardly to other family members, then blinked in astonishment as she looked up, lifted her arms, and settled onto my chest, embracing me tightly.
Tenderly crooning to her, I sensed her need and prayed for her peace and healing as we paced back and forth across the waiting room. The little one had stopped crying and seemed to listen to the prayers winged to heaven on behalf of her and her family. I thought of Nehemiah 4:14 When he saw their fear, he told his people, “Do not be afraid…remember the Lord who is great and awesome.” And so I whispered to this little one that Jesus had sent a hug through me and she should not be afraid, for the Great and Awesome One was with her.
The man turned toward the elevator as a surprised grandmother exited, glancing between him and me and the now contented little one. Simultaneously, our grandson returned from his test and I moved to return the baby to her grandparents. A quick word of comfort regarding God’s care for them, and Nehemiah’s prayer that I’d shared with the little girl brightened their eyes.
A nurse arrived, remarking that the child’s contentment was unusual, and we turned toward the elevator. The little family waved goodbye, their thanks and blessings ringing in our ears as the elevator doors closed.
“What was that about, Gramma?” David asked, always sensitive to experiences of others. “Did you know those people?”
I shared the story of God directing me to comfort that little one, and each person’s response. “Good,” he whispered. “And you wouldn’t have been here to do that if I didn’t need these tests would you?”
I looked up into eyes that exposed an unselfish heart once again seeing beyond its’ own needs. This young man whose faith had taught me to trust my fears to the Lord, reached around my shoulders and pulled me into him for a side hug. “I didn’t realize,” I teased, so I wouldn’t cry, “that a fear-fighting-Jesus-hug had a boomerang in it.” His slow smile matched his quiet response, “Every time.”
Love this. I spent 6 hours in the waiting room this week too. I like to pray there, and I did for all the people including my daughter who was the patient. We gave encouragement to a very patient daddy who was trying his best to calm a cranky sick toddler. It was a long 6 hours but fruitful for the prayers were going up, rising like incense.
So good. And what a beautiful way to redeem the time.