Spoiler alert: I wrote this weeks ago, and I’m happy to report that all the tests came back just fine! But before you tune out, stick around for the wild ride of hospital waiting rooms, thumb-twiddling, and some unexpected life lessons learned with a bit of humor mixed in.
I’m writing this post as I sit in a hospital room twiddling my thumbs, waiting. This is not where I want to be right now, but I’m reminded that life is full of waiting rooms—some more literal than others. Waiting is part of our lives, whether tapping our foot in line at the grocery store or checking the clock in a hospital corridor. Waiting is as common as breathing, only way more annoying.
But here is what I’ve been thinking about lately: what if we’re doing this waiting thing all wrong? Recently, my sister asked me, “Are we waiting well?” So, I’m pondering this as I stare at the hospital’s bland walls. What does “waiting well” look like? Is it possible to wait without feeling like we’re losing our minds (or our faith)?
It seems like a good idea to put all this idle time to good use, so I’ve compiled a few lessons during my crash course on waiting. 
I call it “Waiting 101: The Hospital Edition.” Here goes:
1. God’s not on a coffee break. Just because we’re waiting doesn’t mean God is twiddling His thumbs or taking a vacation. He’s working behind the scenes, even in this sterile, weirdly lighted hospital room.
2. The present is a present. While we’re squinting to see future test results, we could be missing the gift wrap God has put around today. Unwrap it, even if it’s just a kind nurse’s smile or a blessed moment of peace. God sends “hope ropes” to pull us through the wait. You can find them if you look for them. Today, mine was a Cat Scan tech named Bob who knew exactly what to say and took the time to actually care about what was happening to me. (and he cracked hilarious jokes!) The tech made me feel like a real person instead of just a computer number. Hope Ropes also came in the form of dear friends who surprised me with a visit, prayed with me, and sat beside me the entire time. They even brought fun party hats (of course they did!) Party!
3. Patience is not just a virtue; it’s a workout! I think of waiting as spiritual CrossFit. It makes my nostrils twitch to say that word because I do not want to subject myself to CrossFit. It’s painful, but boy, does it build strength! So does practicing patience. These hospital chairs are my new prayer bench.
4. God does not use Amazon Prime. Unlike us, God isn’t concerned with rush delivery. His timing is perfect, even when it conflicts with our impatient schedules and desire for immediate answers.
5. The Waiting Room is a Growth Room. It’s in the “pause moments,” like the one I’m in now, when God does His best interior decorating on our hearts. I don’t want to admit it, but those waiting seasons have taught me the most important lessons. He never wastes a wait, a hurt, or a tear.
Often, I miss the beauty of a moment because I’m so focused on what I’m waiting for. My impatience, frustration, and even my fears cause me to overlook small blessings, whispers of God’s presence, and the growth happening within me. I can get so fixated on the future that I miss the gifts handed to me today.
We are not promised tomorrow. And if tomorrow never comes, all this angst about waiting won’t make any difference. We will have missed so much because we are straining to see the future. It is possible to find joy in the waiting seasons, even here in the hospital. When we shift our perspective to the present moment, we aren’t so caught up in what we are waiting for. This shifting isn’t easy, but it is transformative.
So, the next time you find yourself in a waiting season—whether in a hospital room, or anywhere else life takes you—remember that you’re not stuck; you’re marinating. God is preparing you for something amazing!
Can we find hope in the wait? Yes, and here’s why: The wait just might be preparing us for something far greater than we could have imagined. And that, my friends, is worth waiting for!