Rev. Emelia Attridge

"They call it 'patient' for a reason," he said. 

Chuckling, the elder gentleman said these words despite his forced smile and knitted brow. He'd been describing how he had been waiting around in his hospital room to hear back from the doctors, not really sure what was happening or what was wrong with him (despite all the pokes, prods, tests, queries answered). 

I'd never heard this phrase before, but it gave me such appreciation for the word "patient." We have to be so patient when we are an actual patient! It's hard when we're used to being in control in the rest of our lives to suddenly not be in control at all (and uncertain about the outcomes to boot). 

Maybe life is one big trip to the hospital and God is our doctor. We're getting visits from nurses, but can't remember whether we've met the Doc yet. We wonder, "when are You gonna fix this?" and don't see much prescription or treatment plan anywhere. Yet, we hope and trust that all shall be well.

I'm mixing metaphors here (bulb, rose, doctor, hospital) but at the heart of it all is patience.