Living Life with Your Eyes Up

The other day I was sitting in a hospital waiting room while a friend was receiving some treatment. I was tired and not really wanting to converse with the seven or eight other people seated in various spots around the room. I grabbed the newspaper, opened it wide and began to read the first article my eyes landed upon. I wanted to have a few minutes of peace and quiet. It had been a long weekend and I was not really in the mood to be a ‘pastor’ at that moment. Seated in a chair at the end of the row, I wanted to read quietly and drink my Diet Coke.

After a few minutes I was aware of someone sitting next to me. I could tell that a nurse had just brought someone in on a wheelchair. The chair stopped just a few feet to my right. I didn’t look up from my paper. I did not want to ‘engage’ the person in the chair, no matter who they were. How could I help them anyway? I wanted a few minutes of ‘my’ time. I tried to continue reading the article on North Korea’s nuclear testing.

Have you ever felt the way I felt that day? You need, or at least want, some personal time; so you let the kids play by themselves for a little while longer, you don’t immediately return that phone call, you dare not make eye contact with that beggar at the intersection when they’re standing just a few yards away and you have plenty of change in the ashtray. I feel that way today.

But now I can’t concentrate. This ‘person’ next to me isn’t moving or making a sound. The man who brought them was around the corner talking to the doctor. Why is this person not moving or talking? Still, I kept my eyes on my newspaper. After all, this person was fine, someone was caring for them, and I didn’t see how I could help. I just wanted their escort to come and wheel them away so I could enjoy a few more minutes of solitude behind my paper divider.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer, I put down my pretend tent and looked over to see a Japanese woman who was obviously living later in life and could not have weighed more than 100 pounds. She sat forward in her wheelchair and seemed to be oblivious to everything and everyone else in the room. I looked a little closer and noticed some open sores on her scalp. Her hair was thin and short; she looked like someone going through a rough bout with cancer. I felt bad for her. Her husband turned out to be the man I noticed right when I came into the waiting room. He was looking at some documents on the table over in the corner. He seemed to be some kind of businessman or maybe an architect. He came now and whispered to his wife. He spoke in quiet tones and was gentle toward her. He began to move the chair, but it turned awkwardly and the lady jerked forward. He softly helped her back into position and assured her that all was well. He unlocked the other brake and moved to the elevator. The doors opened and they disappeared.

Now I feel horrible. I feel a bit ashamed. I feel selfish. I should have acknowledged her next to me, greeted her, or at least made eye contact. This poor lady was really struggling, most likely battling something huge in her life. I could have at least made her day a little brighter by saying hello. Her husband is also going through the ringer right now trying to care for a sick partner. It is SO hard to care for sick loved ones. It takes so much strength and sacrifice. I should have done something, anything but sit there with my nose in the Sacramento Bee.

I really appreciate our Lord Jesus. He had time for people. Yes, there were times when He went off on His own to pray and think. But no matter how many sick people came into His life, He made Himself available for them. The Bible describes to us that several times entire villages or cities brought their sick or dying to Him. He patiently went one by one; touching, encouraging, and healing many. I bowed and said a silent prayer for the Japanese woman and her husband. I prayed for their comfort, strength, and salvation. I decided to not come to places like this and hide anymore. I would be more personable and caring toward strangers I meet. I want to see them as Jesus does; as hurting people, needing a word of encouragement, a prayer, and a Savior. I will live life with my eyes up, not looking down or away.