pretend happy

Waiting rooms.  The very name explains the purpose.  Waiting.

I spent sometime in one this week.

If you have never been in one, let me explain:

waiting room.jpgUpon first glance, the furniture looks nice with enough padding.  After 2 hours, that is not the case.  I move, shift, cross and uncross my legs.  I try standing and walking (not far).  Everyone in that room has their spidey sense honed in on the door.  The door where a nurse comes through smiling calling your name.

The tension in the room is thick.  Sticky thick like 90% humidity on a late summer day in North Carolina.

When you first get there, you think everything is so opulent, well-appointed.  The longer you stay, the less you like the stupid lamp with the print.  The wooden safari giraffe looked so perfect when you first arrived, now 2 hours later, just sad and ridiculous.

I counted 17 sofas or love seats.  8 coffee tables.  A fireplace large enough for me and the two adults next to me to crawl in.

I pray and then get distracted, circle back to more praying.

I chew my fingers.  No, it is not lady like.  No, it is not appropriate.  I do it anyway.

I fidget.

I play with my hair.

I have a bag with books, magazines, my phone, snacks.  The coffee table in front of me has fanned out surprisingly up to date magazines.  Nothing keeps my interest.

While being surrounded by 7 other people, it feels lonely.Hydrangea-02.jpg

I wring my hands like a 72-year-old Jewish mother.  I am an excellent worrier.

Then I make a list in my mind of things I am good at.

I am polite and say good morning to everyone who walks near.

I am helpful.

Two people asked me the time and I gave it.

I am pretend happy.  I have a smile on my face.

I want to go home.  But of course, I stay and I don’t leave the area.

I am a much better “doer” than a “waiting room contestant”.  I can bring soup, I can tidy and fluff pillows.  I can keep things orderly and on track.  I can quickly change a bed or scrub a bathroom spotless in less time than it takes for someone to  eat their lunch.

Today, I have a friend on the other side of the country playing the waiting game.  Gosh, I have sent way too many texts and emails.  I want her to know there is someone in her corner.

As i type, I have two band-aides on my fingers.  drats.

….ps.  I did a great job at waiting.  Everything turned out wonderful.  I have convinced myself it is because I was a wonderful contestant.  I get to do it all over again in 10 days.

Bring it on.  I got this.

Here’s to all those wonderful souls that are sitting in waiting rooms reading this.

May you be bathed in Grace.  You are in the exact right spot at the right time.  To the person you are lifting up and supporting, you are making a difference.

in this together






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