The Waiting Room

April 21, 2024

Grant County, KS

I sit in the Waiting Room, staring at the door, willing it to open. Surely it will open if I stare at it hard enough. It feels like I’ve been here forever, and it should be my turn soon.

As the large wooden door finally opens, I scoot to the edge of my seat. Perhaps I should gather my things. But, when God's hand appears from behind the door, it’s somebody else’s name He calls. I slump back. How could it be them? I wonder. They just got here, not two minutes ago.

Oh well, I think. Good for them. My turn will surely come soon.

I look around the Waiting Room. To me, it seems cold and stark. To me, it holds no appeal. I can't wait to get out of here. People of all ages are seated, everyone waiting for something. Some are waiting for marriage. Some are waiting to be parents. Some are waiting to be healthy again. Some, for their dream careers; but everyone, waiting: waiting for that door to open, for God's hand to appear, and for their name to be called.

Again, His hand appears. This time, He calls the person beside me. Fine, I think. I'll miss her, but I guess I’ll let her go. We will still have the holidays and the random trips back home.

Soon, the empty seat beside me is filled by another hopeful soul; but soon, they too are called through the open door. In fact, it seems most of the people I came in with are now gone. Dreams are coming true all around me; and yet, here I sit. Waiting.

It's getting tiring, all this "being happy for others." It's getting tiring, wondering if my turn will ever come. Maybe they actually have forgotten about me. Maybe, if I make enough racket and clear my throat loudly enough, the receptionist will look up and realize that I’m still here. Then, she will look down at her notes and see that I am next.

I try the throat-clearing first. She doesn’t even look up. Maybe that’s because I wasn’t loud enough. I need to do something that really gets her attention.

I see a tall vase on the end table next to my chair. What if I just…. Surely then, she would notice that I’ve been sitting here forever. Before I have time to change my mind, I reach out and swipe the vase. It falls to the floor with a shatter that echos through the Waiting Room. The flowers are scattered about and the water is a growing puddle on the floor. I hear whispers. Some people are giggling. Everyone is looking. Everone, that is, except my targeted audience. The receptionist is still calmly looking down.

Defeated, I sit back down among the ruin. Am I even visible? Surely she would have heard that. Maybe they don’t even see me at all.

But then, my name. My name is called. However, it hasn’t come from behind the door. In fact, when I look at the door, it is still tightly closed. It came from the receptionist. “Ma’am, He would like to speak with you.”

With me? With me? I'd all but given up on Him.

Immediately, a glow fills the waiting room. I look at the faces around me, but the others don’t seem to notice. They go on chatting and doing their crosswords. Then, from somewhere near, a soft, golden voice fills the air— fills my lungs— fills my very soul.

“I know you’re waiting. I have heard your questions. I have seen your frustrations. And I haven’t forgotten about you. Your time is coming.

“In the meantime, don’t be bitter. Don’t be impatient. I know many of your friends have gone, but I have sent new friends to keep you company. Let them in.

“I will never leave you, nor forsake you. I’ve never forgotten you before, and I won’t forget you now. I am at work behind the closed door, making perfect the plan. Be patient, and wait.”

The last echo of His voice dies away. I look around the Waiting Room to see if anyone else has heard His words to me. It seems nobody has.

Shall I believe Him? I guess maybe I should. After all, what have I got to lose? After all, He's right: He never has forgotten me in the past. I will wait for Him. I can’t even remember what I’m waiting for anymore, but He promised me it would be perfect.

Looking around now, I begin to notice that the Waiting Room isn't too cold and stark after all. I see the coffee pot in the corner, beckoning me to stay. I see new friends picking up the pieces of the broken vase, and making a space for me to sit with them. I realize that I was really never alone.

Maybe it’s not so bad here after all. Maybe I can learn to enjoy the Waiting Room.

“What is coming will make sense of what is happening now. Let God finish His work. Let the Composer finish His symphony. The forecast is simple. Good days. Bad days. But God is in all days. He is Lord of the famine and the feast, and He uses both to accomplish His will.”

-C. S. Lewis