Posted on by Shawn

Reflections While Waiting in the Hospital

We’ll give her back to you in about an hour and a half.

I sit in the hospital cafe, drinking Starbucks-in-a-glass-jar. I glance at the window to see if this winter storm has arrived but it gets dark early these days, and all I see is my own reflection against the premature night. The cafe is mostly empty, save a few nurses who talk in hushed tones and laugh to themselves. I imagine it must feel good, having a chance to laugh after hours of trying not to seem too carefree in the face of patients’ uncertainty.

Strange that it takes a visit to the hospital to remember how blessed I am. How we have a wonderful place to live, even if it is subterranean, and how those four kids will swarm us when we walk through the door. How the older two will sit and listen to me read The Hobbit, marveling at a world of goblins and wizards and adventure that leads to a dragon, then home again. How the younger two, since the time change has their sleep confused, climb into bed with us each morning, coaxing and squirming and cuddling.

Such blessed confusion.

There really is so much good in my life. So many reasons to hope, in spite of difficult circumstances. So many reasons to trust, even when I can’t see very far on a cold, almost-winter’s night.

Mr. Smucker? You can come back to see her now.

12 Replies to “Reflections While Waiting in the Hospital”

  3. You, sir, can write. This sentence – “I glance at the window to see if this winter storm has arrived but it gets dark early these days, and all I see is my own reflection against the premature night.” – is poetry.

  4. ANY REJECTION LETTERS YOU HAVE RECEIVED MUST HAVE BEEN IN ERROR – YOUR WRITING IS OFTEN THOUGHTS I HAVE HAD, BUT DIDN’T HAVE YOUR GIFT OF EXPRESSING THEM.

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