Sounds and moans race alongside the aches and pains in my back from helplessly and tensely watching her puke and shiver.
It’s like they are competing over who can make me lose my mind first.
But worry has already won that race.
Is it just food poisoning?
Is it a baby?
Please not a baby.
The hospital is an awful place.
Hospitals means being sick and nobody wants to be sick
Especially at 442am.
It makes it that much more stunning,
that much more unbelievable,
that much more beautiful
when Jesus shows up.
He’s there in the wink and smile of the old guy in socks and a blue gown doing laps around the hospital ward.
He’s there in the moment of peace when she finally drifts off to sleep.
He’s there in the hope that everything will to be ok even if everything is not alright.
He’s there in the broken prayers being screamed down the corridor.
He’s there in the nurse who makes bad jokes while offering hands that steady, comfort, and bring relief.
With her. With me. With them. With all of it.
He’s here doing what he does - bringing grace, peace, and rest to those who need it the most.
I’m thankful for that.
I’ll be the first to tell those who prayed prayers for parking spaces, judgement, and wealth that didn’t answer them because God was too busy being in the right place.