Hospital Doors

On Wednesday, while waiting to leave the hospital for the drive home after surgery, I sat on a bench near the hospital doors and watched the many faces coming in.  I had come in through those doors a half dozen times in the previous month.  I reflected on the thoughts that had gone through my mind each time I had walked through those doors.  On December 27, right after my diagnosis, I wondered about this hospital, the doctor I was about to meet, and what she would say and find out about my cancer.  During one visit, because I had fasted in preparation for a procedure, I wondered how soon I could eat lunch and what I would like to eat when I could.  During another visit I tried to make sense out of the very conflicting results I was getting from various tests, and wondered what the doctor would find that day.  I was back a couple of other times too, but when I came through those doors on February 2, it was for the surgeon to perform a colectomy to remove the section of my colon where the cancerous ulcer was found.  In my heart, it was my desire for God to be glorified in my life that day, but I also wondered what this experience would entail for my family and me.

That Wednesday while I waited for my ride, I wondered about each of the faces coming through the doors.  Some were the faces of medical professionals, coming in for a day’s work.  Some were patients.  Some were volunteers.  Some were family members of patients.  Doctors with stethoscopes and briefcases walked in next to chemo patients wearing knit caps.  Volunteers hurried by husbands who were carefully pushing their wives in wheel chairs.

I also realized that for a moment in time, the hospital doors framed together strangers who knew nothing about each other.  As I looked at the faces walking by, I realized that they were not looking at each other.  They all were preoccupied.  They all were wrapped up in their own concerns, anxieties, plans and daydreams.  I realized that I had been equally oblivious of those who had walked through the doors beside me each of the previous times I had entered.

Life does the same thing.  It frames me together alongside strangers that I don’t even know.  I, in my own little world — they, in theirs.  In Matthew 5, Jesus presented the picture that His followers were to be influencing and providing light for their world.  I don’t naively believe that it is my responsibility to personally interact with “everyone” who “happens” to walk through doorways next to me.  But I am challenged to consider, when in a moment of time life “frames” me next to others:   “Do I, in that passing moment, pay attention to, or care, or speak to them about what is on their hearts?”  How many times am I “in my own little world,” thinking my own private thoughts, without a thought or a care for that other soul who God has providentially arranged to be right beside me?

Jesus said:  “You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt has become tasteless, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled under foot by men.  “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.”  Matthew 5:13-16

Advertisements
Explore posts in the same categories: living, providence, Uncategorized

One Comment on “Hospital Doors”

  1. Vicki Ziebarth Thomas Says:

    Well said. Thank you.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: