Heather Seaman with something to write about

One person

May 26, 2010 at 1:11 pm (Uncategorized)

I’m one person, on the 17 floor, of one building, in one department.  There are friends here waiting to get in and they don’t even have the assurance of an appointment.  They talk on the phone to those on the other side not knowing how many days they’ll keep up such endurance and patience.  Sisters here together, cousins, brothers, friends, parent and child, husband and wife.  I can only begin to imagine the work of God in so many hearts and on so many relationships as they hope for a finish line together.  People taking off work, traveling, spending money, and  waiting… all for life answers.

It makes me realize how we so often live, even as Christians…  Wanting there to be a tangible end in sight that we know.  Sometimes I think that this would all be bearable if I just knew it would someday fade and if not than just to KNOW would somehow bring comfort.  The toughest times of my pain are when the end doesn’t seem to be in sight.  It’s enough to make one crazy.  And so Mayo exists, to ease that uncertainty and change one’s life here on earth.  Don’t get me wrong, I believe Mayo is the ultimate facility in God’s great design for medicine.  It’s like no other make-up, as the best of each field work together through humility to figure things out.  What a precious gift to have a chance at being a part of it’s amazing design.

But it cannot heal our hearts, nor change the burden that our days have seen.  The truth is that our eyes are to be set on a better place, our hearts reaching for a greater hope, and our mind on an eternal finish line.  If we focused on our heavenly entrance as the end than we have, not only the comfort, but the joy the we would be healed and made perfect someday.

Isn’t that we are so desperately after anyway?  I don’t sit here thinking I will be healed in the next 5 minutes, God can do that in a moment.  I anxiously await my turn to see another part of my puzzle.  I want a picture painted for me.  Oh, but how much greater is the final picture than anything these Dr,’s can offer me in their hands.  I hold onto the painting of perfect eternity with my holy Father, seated in his palm of perfect peace and completion.

If anything I feel like I belong here.  To live here or work here in itself would bring healing.  The healing of knowing you aren’t alone.  Another dark attribute of this disease is the mere loneliness.  We all share suffering time, an unexpected journey that life has taken us on.  We all have no place else to go.  We all  have cried in the dark and lost sleep to agonizing pain.  Our flesh has failed us and we desire to go on as new people.  Just wanting a way to survive and know we will.  From war veterans who want to move on to mothers who want to return to their children, we have walked the same walk and been born from the same mold.  Deep down our hearts are similar.

Everyone has a little piece of comfort too.  Every child carries a stuffed animal.  They cling to it as though it will pick them up and fly them to another world far better than theirs.  It’s their savior, their strength.  The older people have newspapers and puzzles to distract them and then there is me.  I have my bible, my music, my writing, and you.  I  have God’s word planted deeply, I pray.  So deep that no matter what hits me I will be able to stand firm on a solid foundation.

To see the slightest smile completely warms my heart, because there aren’t many of those out here.  Simply people waiting in silence, looking at their pagers (I’m # 16315), not sure if they want it to go off or not.  Thank God for the Joy of the Lord.  A couple is called by the nurse.  ”Good Luck,” says the old man next to  me while holding his wife’s purse who is away in the back where we all hope to be.