Twelve: Waiting



Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good. Romans 8:28 MSG

The waiting was the most difficult part.

We arrived over an hour before his surgery was to take place, twenty-five minutes earlier than we needed to, my ocd brain on overdrive. I'm not sure who was more nervous, the child about to have surgery, or his mother, who had to hand him over to other people to give him potentially dangerous drugs and cut part of his body out. Ok, that sounded overly dramatic, but that was tame compared to the worst-cast scenario compulsive thoughts battering my brain. OCD is such a joy in times like these.  All of a sudden it was time. He walked one way with the nurse and I walked the other, to the waiting room. That's when my waiting really began. And praying. So much praying that everything would go smoothly and there wouldn't be any complications. Prayers for the doctors and nurses and all who had a hand in his care. Eventually I ran out of prayers, but God knew what was in my heart. You would think he was having brain surgery, not a tonsillectomy, but that's what moms do. And thank God for the house hunting tv show and the amazing Dad and his son in the waiting room that served as wonderful distractions during my waiting.

There have been other times of waiting and praying. Times of loss or pain or fear when the only word that I could utter was please. Please. Please. Gut-wrenching pleading. There were no other words, only this deep need for help through the horror of the situation. Please.

Thank goodness none of this kind of praying was needed today. Everything went as smoothly as can be expected with a member of my family. 


When I walked into recovery, Zachary was attempting to pull himself out of his drugged slumber. There was moaning and groaning as he struggled to get his bearings and get used to his swollen throat. I took these as silent prayers for relief from uncertainty and fear, from strangeness and pain, and I think God did, too. He woke more fully, calmed down, had a slushie and watched some tv, anxious to be back in the comfort of his home.

Please know, on those days where the stresses seem to outnumber the blessings, that God takes your sighs as prayers, your mumblings as appeals for assistance, and your aggravated yawps as pleas for peace. 

________________________________________

Forty Days In Thought, Word, and Deed


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Storm Prep

Apparently

Commitments