Don’t Keep Me Waiting.
The appointment was for 9am. A side note: “Be there fifteen minutes early.”
OK. No big deal. Weighed in (ugh), blood pressure taken (good), pulse (OK). Next, sit in a small room and wait for the doctor. And wait. And wait some more. No magazines in this cold room. Just a chart on the opposite wall. The only readable words were Heart Disease… Good thing my blood pressure’s already been taken. If I wait much longer I’ll probably wind up with heart problems.
Maybe this could be a prayer room. But after a minute or two I decide it isn’t fair to God to pray just because I’m bored. So I wait. And grow angry. I’ve got things to do.
One by one the minutes crawl by. When “he” finally comes in I point to my
to my watch. And sigh. A deep huge sigh.
He asks, “How are you doing since your last visit?” And then, “I’m sorry I’m late. Got stuck. Do you need to be somewhere?”
I feel like saying, “Well, yah. I need to check my e-mail.”
Before I can let loose he continues. “You haven’t answered my question. How are you feeling?”
I give up and we proceed with the check-up.
On the way home, as I cool down, it strikes me. It could be the doctor had been with someone who had a more severe problem than I did. I had no right to be upset. In fact, a perfect opportunity had presented itself. I could have prayed in that room, but I had put the prayers on the “Later” shelf. I had made Him wait.