And while my initial outlook that day was based solely on my time and the tasks I needed to accomplish, it became clear that God wanted me to view my day quite differently.Īs I reflect on my life, I realize a day rarely passes where my focus is not, in some way, on time. That appointment had a very specific purpose – a purpose I was unable to see until I agreed to participate, WITH GOD, in it. The appointment I had assumed would be a waste of time, was anything but. His gaze shifted up from the floor.Īs the day progressed I could not stop thinking about that visit. As our visit ended and I walked him out of clinic, his shoulders straightened slightly. And while his sadness and grief obviously lingered, his hopelessness and despair seemed to lessen. These topics became the focus of our remaining time together. The sometimes difficult act of trusting the Lord’s goodness through our pain, and when things don’t make sense. Placing hope in Jesus instead of worldly circumstances. Faith … Suffering and the heavy cross of grief … Actively clinging to the Lord in prayer. Taking a breath and silently asking the Holy Spirit to guide my words, I walked through that metaphorical door. But, as his medical provider, would I be breaking an unwritten rule if I brought this up? Or would I actually be accepting God’s invitation by walking through a door He’d placed right in front of me? Would I, in fact, be doing exactly what the Lord hoped I would do? Without a doubt, I know clinging to God through the pain, and an intentional deep trust in Him, are the only things that would carry me through a similar situation. And words that caused me to pause, silently questioning whether it was appropriate for me to intentionally steer our conversation away from his medical diagnosis and towards faith. In this setting he mentioned attending daily Mass – words that served to reveal his Catholic faith. Offering the only consolation I could: my presence, and a compassionate space for him to grieve. His sadness and grief were raw.īut more than that, his hopelessness was palpable. In fact, COVID had now claimed the life of three of his family members. Did he want to talk about anything else? His response brought immediate perspective to my trivial frustrations: His family had just buried another loved one. We briefly discussed his medical issues before I asked if everything was okay. The cheerful greeting he usually extends was missing. My patient’s smiling eyes and joyful demeanor were absent. Reminding myself to smile, I opened the door –immediately sensing something was wrong. With full knowledge that my face and tone of voice often betray me when I try to hide my feelings, I walked to the exam room slowly, an intentional act so my entrance would not seem rushed. Silently grumbling, I clicked through his chart, preparing for a visit I felt was a waste of my time. Maybe he’ll cancel or decide to skip the appointment, I thought hopefully – just in time for my screen to refresh and announce his arrival. I was fairly certain I had offered him the option of reviewing these results by phone, and with the pressure of my busy schedule and exploding inbox weighing heavily, I found myself frustrated that he’d not taken my offer. I also knew none of the results would be available when I saw him. I had seen him recently and knew he was having routine tests done immediately before the appointment. The first name belonged to a man who has been my patient for over ten years. Looking more closely, I read the names of patients scheduled that morning. With no break in my schedule offering a chance to catch up, I would certainly be working late that night. And as a coworker mentioned a lunch meeting I had forgotten, irritation set in. Realizing every appointment slot was filled, I sighed. My decision to not work late the night before meant my inbox was overflowing with results and messages begging for attention. Secretly, I hoped it would reveal a cancellation. I stared at the screen, waiting impatiently for my clinic schedule to open. Jennifer Scheuermann discovers the opportunity in a moment of time she'd written off as time wasted.
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