We’ve been here before. Holding hands. Waiting. I don’t know how many times over the years of being together we’ve sat in a room like this. I don’t care to count. I do know that it’s more times than some have faced and a lot less than others have had to endure. Regardless of how many times we’ve been here with different chairs and vintage magazine covers, there is always the same Holy Bible.
Even in the waiting, some things stay the same.
I’m not good at waiting. Never have been, really. Of the two of us, I’m the one to stew and fret, to worry about the unknown, and to imagine every conceivable outcome. He, on the other hand, sits quietly reading the latest Popular Mechanic, turning the pages with his left hand while his right hand holds tightly to mine. I tremble and sometimes shake. He remains steadfast. He’s good at the waiting game. I am not.
I’ve learned something in the eight years we’ve known about this anomaly of his heart and it’s this… the only way to get better at the waiting game is to anchor myself in the one thing that stays the same.
Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.
The waiting room was quiet this morning and as we held hands, I snapped this picture of the quiet wait. We talked quietly. He told me a story and we both chuckled. We commented on our kids and our life together. We talked of the future and of the past. There wasn’t worry or fear, just a moment together. It wasn’t until I looked at this picture on my phone later that I noticed the one constant in every waiting room… the Holy Bible.
We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.
The best anchors hold their vessel so fast and so secure, that they go unnoticed by the passengers aboard.
Apparently, I’m learning how to get better at the waiting game because today didn’t feel like waiting. It felt like resting.
My anchor holds.