Time wasted ... or a Holy Moment?
Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash
A Waste of My Time
I stared at the screen, waiting impatiently for my clinic schedule to open. Secretly, I hoped it would reveal someone had cancelled. My decision to not work late the previous night meant my inbox was overflowing with results and messages begging for my attention. The screen finally opened, only to reveal that every appointment slot was filled. I groaned silently, and as a coworker mentioned a lunch meeting I had forgotten, my irritation set in. With no break in my schedule offering a chance to catch up, I would certainly be working late that night.
Looking more closely, I
read the names of patients scheduled that morning. The first name belonged to a
man who has been my patient for over ten years. I had seen him recently and knew
he was having routine tests done immediately before the appointment. I also
knew none of the results would be available when I saw him. 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. Maybe he’ll cancel or skip the appointment, I thought hopefully–just in time for my screen
to refresh and announce his arrival. Silently grumbling, I clicked through his
chart, preparing for a visit I viewed as a waste of my time.
With full knowledge that my face and tone of voice often betray me when I attempt to hide my feelings, I walked to the exam room slowly, an intentional act so my entrance would not seem rushed. Reminding myself to smile, I opened the door and immediately sensed something was wrong. My patient’s smiling eyes and joyful demeanor were absent. His regular cheerful greeting never came.
We briefly discussed his medical issues and pending results before I asked if everything was okay. 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. In fact, COVID had now claimed the life of three of his family members. His sadness and grief were raw.
But more than that, his
hopelessness was palpable.
I sat quietly. Listening. Offering the only consolation I could: my presence and a compassionate space for him to grieve. In this setting he mentioned attending daily Mass–words that revealed his Catholic faith. Words that revealed a belief in God. And words that caused me to pause, silently questioning whether it was appropriate for me to steer our conversation away from his medical diagnosis and towards faith.
The Choice Before Me
Without a doubt I know clinging to God through the pain and choosing intentionally to trust Him are the only things that would carry me through a similar situation. But as his medical provider was I breaking an unwritten rule by bringing this up? Or would I actually be accepting God’s invitation by walking through a door He’d placed right in front of me?
Without a doubt I know clinging to God through the pain and choosing intentionally to trust Him are the only things that would carry me through a similar situation. But as his medical provider was I breaking an unwritten rule by bringing 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 was calling me to do?
Taking a breath and
silently asking the Holy Spirit for guidance, I walked through that
metaphorical door: Faith … Suffering and the heavy cross of grief … Actively
clinging to the Lord in prayer ... Placing hope in Jesus instead of worldly
circumstances ... The often difficult act of trusting the Lord’s goodness
through our pain when things don’t make sense. These topics became the focus of our remaining time together. And
while his sadness and grief lingered, his hopelessness and despair seemed
to lessen. As our visit ended and I walked him out of clinic, his shoulders
straightened slightly. His head hung not quite as low. His gaze shifted up from
the floor.
A Different Perspective
As the day progressed I could not stop thinking about this visit. The appointment I had assumed would be a waste of time, was anything but. That appointment had a very specific purpose–a purpose I was unable to see until I agreed to participate, with God, in it. 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's view of my day was quite different.
As the day progressed I could not stop thinking about this visit. The appointment I had assumed would be a waste of time, was anything but. That appointment had a very specific purpose–a purpose I was unable to see until I agreed to participate, with God, in it. 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's view of my day was quite different.
The Value of a Moment
I've come to realize my concern with time is unique to my presence here on earth. Since God exists in eternity, He is, by definition, outside of time. Reflecting on this, I wonder whether God “measures” time at all. As I perceive each moment to be a unit of time somehow demanding measurement and valuation, perhaps God views each moment as an opportunity–an opportunity to see and know Him better. To receive His love. To be His hands and feet.
I've come to realize my concern with time is unique to my presence here on earth. Since God exists in eternity, He is, by definition, outside of time. Reflecting on this, I wonder whether God “measures” time at all. As I perceive each moment to be a unit of time somehow demanding measurement and valuation, perhaps God views each moment as an opportunity–an opportunity to see and know Him better. To receive His love. To be His hands and feet.
Typing these words I am quickly reminded of the many recent comments I've heard regarding the upcoming one year anniversary from the onset of quarantine. One year during which everyone’s life has changed in some fashion. For so many this is a somber anniversary, one filled with cancelled plans and inconveniences, anxiety and fear, grief and loss.
I don't want to dismiss the very real pain and tragedy that so many, my own family included, have experienced this past year. But perhaps viewing the past year through only the lens of time causes us to miss out on something. Perhaps this view lessens the value of all we've endured.
Could it be that the Lord is inviting us to
more?
I'm praying now that the Lord helps me view the last year, the coming year, and every
future year, through His lens. May I no longer view each moment as a mere unit of measured time, filled with my plans and defined by what I've gained, lost, or accomplished. May I instead view each moment as a unique opportunity, one placed before me by Him and possessing infinite value. And may this view allow each and every moment to become Holy.
For each person who has experienced the pain of loss during this past year, my prayers are with you.
And as always, I’m
praying God breathes life into these words…
___________________________
(blessed by these words? feel free to share, so you can bless others.)
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