There we were, Dad and I at the emergency room again. He and Mum have probably seen more of the e.r. this year than they have in the last 10 years. Unlike over six months ago when we were there for the heart attack, Mum was not with us; she was home sick. Being a wife I know that gnawed at her but she was in no condition to go out herself. In the back of my mind I wondered if he’d get sent again by ambulance some place else and I, directionally challenged, would be left alone to try and track him down. That would be bad. As it was, (due to a miscommunication), I got turned around on the way to the e.r. and called Bob from a juncture to get me on the right highway again. “How do you not know where you are?” he asked. I don’t know . . . that’s it, I don’t know. To my meek, mild dad’s credit he never once scolded. I apologized over and over for not taking the road he motioned to saying I had it all figured out . . . until I realized I didn’t. Wow. Don’t ever take a road trip with me unless you are driving . . . or you know where you are going and you are directing me.
The e.r. was a nightmare. I think they were passing out raffle tickets for a large prize of which we were unaware. There was the lady who became very vocal because she’d been hauled in by an ambulance, her personal wheel chair was left at home, and she had an appointment she had to keep at a place she probably wasn’t going to make and it was all the staff’s fault. They did find her a ride. They did offer the wheel chair. She continued to lament until they threatened to get security. Guess her next appointment wasn’t all that important or she would have said “Thanks” and got moving to get there instead of wasting precious time complaining.
There was the woman who’d been there since 1 a.m., hadn’t been seen until 6 a.m., and vacillated between sitting and laying across the chairs in the waiting room. She didn’t drive nor could she find a ride home. Can’t tell you how thankful I was in that moment that not only do we drive but we have vehicles to drive. That woman had nearly every disease existing and if she didn’t have it she was waiting to be diagnosed with it. I was relieved for her and me when her ride finally came.
There was the elderly couple, married 53 years. The wife had a urinary tract infection but they still managed to be pleasant.
There was the man who came with paper towels stuffed up his profusely bleeding nose.
There were two women who seemed to be in excruciating pain in their left sides.
Arriving some time after noon was a boy, no more than 14, if that, wearing Hello Kitty p.j. bottoms and red nail polish. Law enforcement began to appear shortly after he did.
And that was just “our” side of the waiting area.
Then there was Dad, quietly suffering with pain, (although I did hear him muttering prayers for others), going where he was led and doing what was asked of him. Neither of us had eaten and we were both contemplating stretching out on the chairs ourselves . . . but they kept being filled, vacated, filled. It was musical chairs in the e.r.
After about 5 hours in the waiting room we were finally taken through the double doors to find out the results of the blood tests, which one more was taken, and C.T. scan, and treatment if required. It was a crazy, and I mean a crazy sight. Beds and chairs lined the hallways. It looked like war fallout. This was no typical day in the e.r.
I saw the man with the profusely bleeding nose be “treated”. The doctor told him he’d feel some pressure; that was an understatement. The way that man’s head went back I’d have thought a rocket was shot through his nose.
An elderly woman was wheeled by whose face was covered with bruises.
I think it was the kid that triggered some kind of code, personnel went scurrying, he was screaming . . .
There was Dad, quietly laying on the bed, thankful for the warm blanket that was placed on him, not a complaint escaped his lips — which a staff member noticed and thanked him.
I marveled when I overheard a doctor asking at the counter if there were any rooms upstairs. I heard one person at the desk reply, “There are no rooms.” I texted to Mum, “Does that sound familiar?” “Yes,” she answered.
For the most part, Dad and I were both very quiet. Our time at the e.r. was probably the stillest I’d been since, well, I don’t remember when. Mum texted, apologizing for needing so much help. Dad apologized for taking up my day. For the most part, I remained quiet. As I had for most of this Christmas season, I was pondering on Mary and Joseph. The “no rooms” statement at the desk drilled my thoughts deeper.
Sometimes I think we become so familiar with the story that we forget that these were real people with real plans. Like most of us they daydreamed about how their lives would unfold. But their lives didn’t unfold like a neat package; it was messy. I imagine they were both ostracized for being promiscuous. The women whispered behind Mary’s back and Joseph may have lost some business. To add insult to injury, they had to make a very long journey when Mary was very pregnant . . . all to fulfill prophecy — of which we may also become too familiar. Mary and Joseph were willing to let their reputations be trashed. When the LORD spoke they answered/acted immediately. They let God’s truth in their hearts trump the opinions of others. They endured hardships to fulfill prophecies. And they did so not fully comprehending the impact their obedience would have on generations to come.
I’m overflowing with awe for the very real, imperfect people, past and present, who let their radical love and devotion to God inconvenience their lives. Of course there is Christ Himself and God who gave Him. As if God’s greatest gift to all of mankind didn’t cause ripples in all the realms for all eternity. Face it, if it’s always easy and convenient chances are it isn’t true love.
My parents’ apologies were lost on me. Mum came and sat with me for 4 months straight, missing only one day after the twins were born. Dad took on our yard work without us requesting his help after Bob’s surgeries. Love is present when it’s inconvenient. It is present when the gossipers tongues are wagging, when there isn’t any room in the inn, when all of humanity’s eternal resting place lies in the balance. Love is present, for the sake of future generations, even when it doesn’t see the promise in its time.
I want to carry the glow of Christmas into this coming year. I pray that I am willing to live out radical love and devotion to God for the sake of mankind, present and future, even when it’s inconvenient. And I hope that you will join me.
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