We observe St. Patrick's Day this weekend; but snakes will appear in my messages on Saturday and Sunday and I've yet to find a gluten-free green beer, so, as usual, I'll tease out what has wandered into my mind this Wednesday morning. Like most pastors, I spend considerable time in hospital waiting rooms. Comforting, or at least accompanying, our saints provides many opportunities for people watching. Although not everyone is friendly, especially when under stress, people gathered out of concern for others regularly reveal some of the best of human nature.
Recently I sat in a waiting room for a long, long time, waiting for word about a saint undergoing surgery. As minutes turned to hours, it dawned on us all that no one in the room had heard anything about our loved ones for quite some time. We began checking in with each other: asking who had received news, offering encouraging words, and wondering together why none of us had heard anything. Eventually, we took our question to the volunteer at the desk, who made a call and learned that people injured in a serious motorcycle accident had arrived unexpectedly and required the use of all the operating rooms. Some of us kindly, and others of us more forcefully, suggested that someone should have informed us. In addition to feeling angry about being kept in the dark, I marveled at how we had become a community. Our private concerns now belonged to us all.
That same waiting room also serviced people having less serious outpatient procedures. One patient had recently given birth to twins. Her mother accompanied her to watch the twins while she was with the medical staff. The twins, of course, awoke and filled the room with the sounds of their hunger and other needs. Almost immediately helpers came from all directions with assistance. Yes, babies are beautiful and usually attract a crowd; but each person in the waiting room had someone else on her or his mind. Nevertheless, in short order the twins' needs were met, most of us had learned their names, and a proud but weary grandmother received the support of a surrogate family.
A young, timid woman sat in a corner alone while her husband underwent major surgery. The longer she waited, the more anxious she became. One by one a number of others sat beside her to offer words of comfort, encouragement, and prayer. She may have sat alone, but community surrounded her.
Folks sitting in a waiting room are vulnerable. Not everyone is friendly or gracious, but vulnerability makes room for meaningful human (and divine) contact. When we feel no need, we typically derive little benefit. When we stand apart, we usually stand alone. When we unnecessarily make others keep their distance, even God struggles to draw near.
Life is short, and there is precious little time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us. Every act of love and kindness creates community and draws us closer into the embrace of the One from whom all good things flow. Thanks be to God.
Lenten Blessings,
LP
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