Praying Through the Wait

I stared out the window of the hospital waiting room, but the activities of the busy street offered me little distraction. I stood and paced the room, then returned to my seat. I clasped my hands and held them between my knees. A quick glance at my watch confirmed only minutes had passed since I’d last looked.

We had all prayed and hoped that my daughter Danielle wouldn’t need surgery. After many rounds of chemotherapy and scans, her doctor said that no remaining traces of cancer were found, but surgery would be the only way to be sure.

Her doctor spoke with us before the operation and explained the procedure. Placing her hand on my arm, the doctor said, “I’ll be out after surgery to let you know how it went.”

Danielle and I exchanged smiles as she was escorted into the operating room and I was led to the waiting room.

Waiting isn’t easy, but I’ve learned over the years that worrying takes more work. So I prayed, not just for Danielle, but for everyone else who came to my mind.

Hours had passed when someone touched my arm again. Danielle’s surgeon smiled at me. “No cancer. She did great.”

Sometimes waiting is part of being a caregiver.