When was the last time you sat in a waiting room?

 

Seeking help from doctors, dentists, counselors, pastors, funeral directors, car mechanics, hospitals, clinics, perspective employers? The list goes on and on.

 

Reviewing your notes, thumbing dog-eared magazines, texting for support, studying others’ shoes, pulling at a hangnail, critiquing the office décor, stewing over delays, watching TV, breathing deeply, wondering when you’re next?

 

The ticking wall clock exacerbates the tension. Played-out receptionists, examining chipped polish on their fingernails, compound the tedium.

 

Yet, change is called for.

 

On the other side of that door, an authority of some stripe offers ways around our glitches, either enlarging or diminishing them. And so we inch through life making incremental changes.

 

But there is grace in waiting, one that seasons our life experience, one that eventually moves us toward the final waiting room of our last breath. There, we will experience the Helper who had inspired all the helpers we sought along our way.

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