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“Where’s the special elevator?” asked a porter wearing navy scrubs and emerging from an ICU room. Behind him another porter leaned against the sheet-wrapped gurney with the remains of a patient. Silence hushed the wide corridor lined with other high-tech rooms inter-spaced with computers, all beaming with protocols for the staff to observe with their patients.

A cleaning woman gave a knowing look and nodded toward the direction he was to take; then gripped her mop in sinewy hands and disappeared around the corner.

My thoughts went to the newly deceased, a woman, I supposed. Not much was left of her body. Presumably, she also left behind years of doctoring in such places as this. And the emptiness of this scene–no family or caregivers, no chaplain around. But perhaps they had already been there and left.

However this woman made her transit, she is ultimately free of the whatevers that had kept her in bondage, perhaps even to her doctors.

I wonder how she now views that last-ditch effort to save her life. I wonder about her astonishment with her new God.

It was Sunday afternoon, in Christian belief, the day of resurrection. I rejoice with her.





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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