A true story in five very brief scenes by Kat Silverglate, Copyright 2023

Act 1, Scene 1: Out of Mind.

• Setting: Summer 2012. Mammography department inner waiting room. Repeat mammogram after abnormal results.

“You are finished Ma’am. You’ll hear from us in a week or so. You’re good to go.”  Did she say a week or so? Did she say good to go? Great! That’s code for it was routine. That means it’s over. I put the whole parade of whatiffables so far out of my mind that when the “you need a biopsy” message came later that same day, the fear filter made the nurse sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher, Mrs. Donovan: “Wah wah wah… “biopsy.” Wah wah wah… Wah wah … “radiology”  Wah wah… “insurance approvals…”

Act 1, Scene 2: Waiting Room.

• Setting: A few days later. Outpatient surgery. Post biopsy.

“You’ll hear from us in a week or so. Now you go home and get some rest.” Rest? Is she kidding? How do you rest when that little whatif gremlin is running nonstop Tasmanian devilish sprints around the creases of your brain? How do you turn that off? It became clear after my post-biopsy attempt at a nap that this inconsiderate guest was going to bother me for the duration of my waiting room visit -- which is why most of us hate waiting. While waiting rooms seem to be quiet places, in the headspace of the visitors they can be deafeningly loud.

What if, what if, what if…

Act 2 Scene 1:

• Setting: A Friend’s Waiting Room. Four and ½ days later. Sylvester Cancer Center. Still no biopsy results.

Before all this waiting room drama started, I had promised a friend that I would be with her for her biopsy. “We’ll call you when she’s done. Wait here please.” Her husband, sister and a mutual friend shuffled into the waiting room, prayed and then spoke in hushed tones because waiting rooms are supposed to be quiet, right? So when the screaming started, we were understandably alarmed. The wailing sound from behind the closed doors to the procedure wing wasn’t coming from my friend. It was another patient crying out in Spanish: “Help, I don’t want to be alone. Why did they leave me alone. I’m scared. Don’t leave me alone.”

She wasn’t in physical pain, she was in spiritual pain. Lonely. Afraid.

Act 2 Scene 2:

• Setting: Behind Closed Doors.

With no warning, my friend’s sister gets up, walks through the official medical staff only doors and finds the wailing woman’s room. Minutes later she returns to us with this:

“Nobody stopped me. Let’s go in and wait in there.”

We all jump up and follow, which seems strange now, but it didn’t then. It just happened. At first, the bed bound wailing woman doesn’t realize anybody is in the room with her because she is so out of her mind in distress. Our mutual friend starts to pray quietly. My friend’s sister begins to talk to her in Spanish. I have no idea what to do so I start to sing, which is hilarious because I can’t. Not well anyway. It’s just what comes out in the awkward moment. It’s what we do with inconsolable babies. We sing. “How great is our God, sing with me, how great is our God, and all will sing how great, how great is our God... Name above all names, He is worthy of all praise.  And my heart will sing how great, is our God.”

Later we learn her name – Teresa - and that she has dementia. Eventually she tunes in to her surroundings and notices us. “Who are you?” she asks. One by one we tell her our names. “We heard you crying so we came.” One by one she thanks us. After going in and out of distress a few times, she finally calms.

There is complete peace in that crowded waiting room.

Final Scene: Waiting Room Feast

• Setting: The "Stranger's" Room

The nurse comes in with Teresa’s food. She starts to feast. Calm as a kitten. My friend’s sister pulls out her lunch box. “Anybody hungry?” My eyes get moist. I start to realize just how much God has orchestrated all of this, not just for this stranger, but for me. I’m watching Psalm 23:5 play itself out in living color:

It is the verse I’ve been repeating when fear and worry send me out of my mind. It’s the truth I tell myself in the dark – that the Lord plunks a table down right in the middle of our distress and says sit with Me. Stop getting up and spending time with your enemies. Sit. Not after the results come in, but right smack dab in the middle of the wait. So there I sat feasting in Teresa’s waiting room with the Lord and the friends He sent her way. The friends He sent my way.

This whole experience starts to shake loose the truth that waiting isn’t passive. While we may be tempted to think of it as the act of waiting, it seems much more like active waiting, doesn’t it? Vigilantly noticing when we’ve gotten up to spend time with our enemies and choosing, again and again, to sit back down with the Lord. A constant return to the Lord’s table. I love the way Isaiah brings us to this non-passive truth:

NOTE for those reading this who do not receive mission packs in the mail, the results for me were negative. The results for my friend were positive. We both found peace the same way. Returning to the table...

Our April Mission:

If you’ve already received your mission pack in the mail, go ahead and shake out those contents. If you aren’t receiving them and want one, go to the ridiculoushour.com and click on that start button in the middle of the top image.  The one with the bikes and the clocks. That image represents God’s time…

There are two equipping pieces in your pack this month. One, a round sticker that says Worth the Wait; and two, a pink telephone note that says, While You Were Out… so and so called. This month, our mission is to focus on the areas of our life where we are waiting.

The pink telephone note reminds us that while we are out with our enemies – fear, worry, hopelessness, despair, you name it, the Lord is calling us to sit at the table with Him. All month long, pay attention to your waiting posture. Is it active? What are you waiting for? Make a list. Where do you go when you’ve done all you know to do and you need peace while you wait? Do you welcome those He sends to wait with you? Or are you going it alone?

Take that round Worth the Wait sticker and put it in a visible place. Remind yourself that He sets a table before you in the presence of your enemies and it is worth waiting there! Always.

Amen?

Amen!