Yesterday my dear hubby had minor surgery. It was a procedure he has had several times in our marriage, one that usually takes place in a physician’s office.
However, yesterday the procedure took place in an real operating room at the hospital. The doctor wanted to make certain he had the facilities available to him in case something was amiss.
This led me to the waiting room on the outpatient surgical floor.
I dressed warmly (but still wished I had a sweater) as hospitals are cool by nature. I don’t know if it is the lack of activity or what, but I am always chilled sitting there, and for those who know me, know I am never cool. But, I digress.
We arrived on time, sat a few minutes and they promptly led my hubby away. We had sat on a little couch and I remained where I was sitting as he walked away. I was comfortable and there was a table topped with magazines to keep me occupied.
Shortly after hubby disappeared, three people entered the room. A couple and a woman alone. I didn’t notice them until they sat in the chairs next to me. They were obviously friends and their conversation was animated and filled with the tones of love that friends share. I sat with my magazine doing my best not to eavesdrop.
Now, I know anyone who has spent any time waiting their turn knows how difficult it is to not listen to another conversation. Right? Soon, I realized I was reading the same page over and over. I smiled to myself on certain topics the three were discussing. I could feel myself being drawn into what they were saying.
I really did try to not inject myself into the conversation, but, I confess, I did. The three were talking about young people misbehaving during church. The lone woman said she went and sat with the offenders at one point. She talked of how she hoped they would remember it and not be offended. She hoped she had not offended the parents, but she had felt she needed to do what she did, This is the point where I entered the fray. I shared a story with them about my oldest daughter. She was in junior high at the time and felt like she was mature enough to sit with her friends during a church service. She unwisely chose to sit two pews in front of my hubby and I. A young couple with their small children sat between us. Shortly into the service I watched as my daughter and her friend started playing around with one another. The friend was the pastor’s daughter and I knew she was getting the evil eye from the pulpit. I tapped the shoulder of the man in front of us. I leaned in and told him to tell my daughter to knock it off and behave. I told him to use those words. He looked at me with shock, but did it nonetheless. I watched as my daughter looked shocked and embarrassed and turned around to the front. The rest of the service I saw great behavior. She is in her mid thirties now and still can recall being corrected by the man in between us. We never had a problem with her behavior in church after that, at least that I could see.
The three of them laughed at my story and soon the group of three let this solitary person into their group. We laughed, shared stories and a part of our life.
I sat looking at this impromptu group. Strangers, people I will most likely never meet again. Yet, for a couple of hours we were companions.
There are gifts given us in the oddest places. I kept thinking of that yesterday. We are never really alone when we think we are.
I had a phone call and left the room so I didn’t disturb anyone. I was then taken to the room where hubby was awaiting his surgery. I wanted to return to the room to thank the people who had shared their time with me. I wanted to let them know how blessed I was by them. After I walked with hubby as they wheeled him into surgery I returned to the waiting room, anxious to reconnect with my newfound companions. They were gone.
I went to lunch by myself, texted with my daughters and thought of hubby in the operating room and the husband of the lone woman in the group who was also in surgery. I prayed for both.
The rest of the time was spent on my own. I watched the television news channel and looked blankly at the newspaper. I watched the monitor that showed where people were in the operating rooms. It was quiet. Other conversations were going on, and yet I was not drawn into any of them.
The surgeon appeared, debriefed me and went on his way. I got hubby into the car and home. Life continues. My mind, though, is roaming, thinking of the small group I was a part of yesterday. I hope all is well with them. I am thankful for being a part of their lives for whatever reason it was.
God is good to us. He watches over us in the smallest ways. I am reminded of this over and over. He places us in groups, some impromptu, some on purpose. Today I am grateful for those in my life, and for you, thank you for stopping by, DAF