Perspective

I sat anxiously in the waiting room. I was told the procedure would last between 60-80 minutes. It had now been 90 with no end in sight. 

As my mind began to drift to far off, scary places, I began to pray for my daughter. This was the third time she had been sedated in as many months - this time, for a specialized hearing test and CT scan - but it doesn't get easier. The waiting, the praying, the hoping that she was responding well to the anesthesia, that the results would be what we were hoping for, that answers would be found. I sat, alone, surrounded by my anxious thoughts but in a room full of others, also, undoubtedly, praying their way through their own waiting games, as their own children's health and well-being also lay in the hands of strangers - amazing, brilliant, qualified strangers, but strangers no less. 

As I continued to pray, and stare out the window at the beautiful snow that began to fall, I heard the kindest voice next to me, "Is your child having surgery?" I looked to the woman sitting beside me on the waiting room couch. I proceeded to explain that our Bella was being evaluated and scanned with the hopes that we would find answers to her perplexing hearing results that had mystified us for months.  

It was then that I learned about her precious grandson, Levi, just two years old like my Bella. He had been on dialysis since 10 days old and was now, finally, two years later, getting a kidney transplant. His uncle was donating his kidney and he, too, was in the hands of a surgeon as we spoke. She shared about how this procedure was supposed to happen two weeks ago. How she and her husband had traveled down from Missouri then, along with other family members, only to discover, 30 minutes before the procedure, that the surgeon didn't feel comfortable performing the surgery that day due to some of Levi's lab results. So, here they were, two weeks later, having traveled back to Charlotte again, to wait the many hours in the Family Waiting Area as their beloved grandson received his uncle's kidney. 

Levi would be hospitalized for 10-14 days following the procedure. 
Bella would be discharged less than an hour after she awoke from anesthesia.

Levi would spend another 6 weeks, with his mom, recovering in the hospital's Ronald McDonald House. 
Bella would be fine by the time we got home. 

Levi's family had traveled across several states, twice, to be there to support him. 
I had complained about driving in freezing rain and snow the 20 minutes to/from the hospital. 

Talk about perspective.

Last week, I broke down. There are so many unknowns with our girl, and our road feels overwhelming sometimes, but my ever-reassuring, calm husband is always quick to remind me: She is healthy and happy. She is FINE. 

And he is so right. 

If I'm being totally honest, sometimes I hear people complaining about problems that I don't think are problems. And my sinning, judge-y self rolls my eyes at their "problems." Isn't that terrible? Hi, my name is Lindsay, and I have a lot of growing up and growing in faith to do. 

But that day, in that waiting room, my own judge-y-ness smacked me right in the face: "Linds, Bella is FINE. We'll figure out the hearing stuff and all the other stuff. But she is healthy and happy." 

Perspective. 

Sometimes, the "problems" in our lives seem insurmountable, overwhelming, huge. But are they really? No. Not for God. He's got the panoramic view, and He's got us.  And now, I have clear perspective. 

On Wednesday, I met the grandmother of the bravest little boy in a waiting room in a children’s hospital in Charlotte. She'll never know the gift she gave me that day: Perspective. 

And Levi, I am praying for you. What a brave warrior you are.  <3