There’s not much to do in a small hospital room. We’re plowing through novels, enjoying classical music, and sharing an occasional conversation. There is no stress, no thoughts about what to do tomorrow or next week. Just interminable waiting. At least I can leave…go to the cafeteria, walk around the hospital, or (as I did last night) go home and see the kids. Ben is still tethered to the wall and most likely will be for the unforeseeable future.
We really hoped that this visit would be different, and that Ben would begin having seizures pretty quickly. But as usual, God has other plans. I want to manipulate God. To make him do what I want him to do. I want to know what will happen. When will the seizures start? What will the outcome be? When will we be home, and will we find out that Ben’s condition is treatable? God wants us to wait patiently.
The doctors come and go, telling us what we already know: “no seizures yet.” My tendency is to want to treat the doctors like they are God. I ask all kinds of medical questions, but I know deep down what I’m really asking is, “Will this be all right?” “What will happen to us?”
I don’t like waiting.
Psalm 40:1 – 3
I waited patiently for the Lord;
he inclined to me and heard my cry.
2 He drew me up from the pit of destruction,
out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
making my steps secure.
3 He put a new song in my mouth,
a song of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear,
and put their trust in the Lord.