Advent in the waiting room

By Debra Bendis

This week I waited in a hospital waiting room with my mother while my dad underwent surgery to repair an aortic aneurysm (successfully). The staff was cordial and efficient, the coffee was free, and an RN came around every hour or so to give us an update on surgery progress. Still, it was a hospital, and during the eight hour wait we became lethargic, stuck in our chairs except for a few forays into the cafeteria.

A cloud of anxiety weighed on our conversation. (My dad is 83.) There are more problems ahead for my parents, who have thus far been vibrant and active in spite of stenosis, rotary cuff, arthritis, diabetes, etc. How will they find the courage for these later, chaotic years? How will I find the stamina I need to stay by their sides?

I find some clues back at home, where my husband and I read an Advent devotional. “We need to wait together to keep each other at home spiritually,” Henri Nouwen reminds us, “so that when the Word comes it can become flesh in us.” “Waiting together.” I think of the lonely hospital waiting room, where the “waiters” pass time by clinging to a cell phone conversation or staring vacantly at a TV. Yes, some greet strangers next to them, but many endure the wait alone, and try to ward off their fears and even panic.

It’s a joy to be back at church for Sunday school, where members of a small group are discussing their personal experiences of Advent and praying about them. This Sunday we’ll carol at the home of a member who is confined with an oxygen tank. With the spiritual strength we’ve garnered in the company of other Christians, we are cultivating what Nouwen calls the attitude of waiting, and hoping, as he says, “to be people who can live in a very chaotic world and survive spiritually.”

Comments

[lcm]

Thank you for the timely and heartfelt reminder of what we are called to do and be during Advent.

[christian_cook]

This time of year, when we surround ourselves with loved ones—including those who are elderly or ailing—is when I feel my faith most strongly. There’s something profound in watching the minutes pass with souls that might not have many minutes left. “Waiting,” as you say, is more than malaise; it can also be miraculous.

[Susan Olson]

Well, my long advent of trying to get into the comment box is finally over! A nice piece--I'm sorry it took me so long to get here!

[MikeS]

Eleven years ago my mother, brother, and I waited for my father, then 78, to come through heart bypass surgery. I still remember my brother almost running and jumping toward me in the hospital cafeteria, yelling, "He's in the recovery room! The doctor says he's doing great!" The joy wouldn't have been the same if we hadn't been waiting together. The waiting, somehow, was the springboard for the joy.
- Thanks for the chance to reflect and share.