The walls in the waiting room at a pediatric bone marrow transplant clinic speak with a silent voice. It is place like no where else. The room is deliberately made bright and sunny. But the quiet, unspoken stories are bouncing off those walls. When I look around, it is no longer about us..it is not all about Elijah and his journey..his blood counts, his struggles. It is about the stories of each family waiting in that room. Each child on a different stage of their journey..some just beginning, some weary from the long journey they have been on...others nearing the end of their visits to the clinic.
You can see it in the kids...and in their parents. Some are filled with optimism as they have survived the transplant. There eyes look to say, "It's going to be okay." Other parents in the room look at us with a glance but then quickly look away. They are not ready to see the others in the room..they are in the midst of the struggle with their child. They are scared and overwhelmed..and seeing another child dealing with the similar struggles is no consolation...and sometimes knowing that others are going through this as well just adds to the burden and does not lessen it's impact.
It is so quiet in the waiting room. Eerily quiet..a respect for the pain, fear and uncertainty that is faced by everyone who is sitting there...waiting. Waiting for a doctor to tell them if there is good news or bad news..usually some of both.
I want to break the silence. Listen to the stories. Share our similar journeys...make a connection with the families in the waiting room. I want to say, "We get it. We understand." But, we are newbies to the waiting room...we wrestle with our responses. Do we try and follow the social cues of others and sit in the quiet room that could be so connecting but feels so isolating? Do we reach out and try and talk with other families? Every one processes the tough times in their lives differently..I long to make a connection with others but not everyone is wired the same way. It is one thing to try to strike up a conversation with someone you may have something in common with at your child's school, it is a very different thing to do that in a pediatric BMT waiting room..the stakes are so much higher if it is not what the other family wants or needs at that time.
So, for now, as I wrestle with a new phase of an old role I have played in life...the Mom of a really sick kid, I will do what God leads me to. A nod, a smile, a kind word may just open a door that God wants opened. I will sit along side my precious son and my husband and I will pray for the families that are sitting along side us. And I will trust that God will open the doors of conversation and connection when He wants them to be opened. And I will pray that His comforting touch will be felt through us.
There is no triviality in the waiting room at pediatric BMT clinic. These are the big leagues. And every time we walk through the doors, I can not help but to feel indescribable gratitude and compassion. God is good to our family...we do not sweat the small stuff. We have been given a clear picture of all that is important in life. God has graciously given us that gift. And His gifts are always just what we need.
Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights who does not change like shifting shadows.
