Faces
This week we have had to take Ethan down to Primary Children's Hospital every other day for his drug infusion. (for info on ethan see: www.ethanjkeona.blogspot.com) This time we had to wait for about 40 minutes before being taken back to the RTU (rapid treatment unit). The waiting area is placed right in the lobby by the main entrance doors. Ethan was watching the cartoon on the TV and I found myself just watching all the people and saw myself in so many of their faces.
The tired looking parents walking down to the cafeteria, hoping for something good to eat and a chance to escape the hospital room if only for a few minutes. The anxious family members rushing to the front desk to visit a loved one, the concern evident in their eyes, the speed of their step, and the shaking of their hands. The excited look of parents pushing a balloon tied wheelchair to the front doors - their son or daughter being discharged. The worn look on parents faces as they walk slowly to the doors, carrying dufflebags, backpacks and luggage. Going home for a decent shower, a better but still restless night sleep and hopefully coming back with some type of new found energy.
I made the comment that I had packed my carryon luggage, dragged it up so many elevators and down long halls that I could have reached flight attendant status. We were only there 30 days. Ryan met a mom whose baby has been there all 9 months of her life, some kids have been there almost a year. I don't know how they do it. Well, I guess in some way I do. You just do it. What other choice do you have? This is your child, your most precious gift from our Father in Heaven, and I know that as parents we will do anything and everything to protect our children and make them happy.
I watched all these people walking in and out of the doors. I was amazed at how many times I could see myself in each of their eyes. The worry, the fear, the hope, the longing to be with other children but the guilt of leaving the child behind, the joy, the anticipation....... so many different emotions run through your mind and hear constantly.
I know we are learning many lessons from this trial. Some we may not know for years to come. But for now, one thing we have come to more fully recognize is that everyone faces a trial and hurts somewhere and at sometime in their life. How many faces do we see each day? What emotions do they show and what emotions do they hide? I think Ryan and I have become slower to make judgements, quicker to offer a prayer on someones behalf and jump at the chance to hug or serve someone. I think we can all see pain in the faces of people we meet. We might not be able to understand but we can understand that a smile really does go along way.
One night I was driving home from the hospital and stopped at a Chevron to get a drink. I had been sobbing the whole way there and trying not to cry while filling my drink. I know my eyes were puffy, swollen and I looked terrible. I went to the counter, eyes down and barely looked to the cashier. As I gave him my money he looked directly at me and smiled. He could tell something was wrong and rather than avoid contact he made the point to give me a concerned smile. I still continued to cry the rest of my trip home, but for a few seconds I felt relief and comfort from this stranger. Everday as we pass the faces in the crowd, will we be the one to offer a smile, concern, possibly a hug and a listening ear? I know that we are trying to do just that, because it is what has helped us so much.
The tired looking parents walking down to the cafeteria, hoping for something good to eat and a chance to escape the hospital room if only for a few minutes. The anxious family members rushing to the front desk to visit a loved one, the concern evident in their eyes, the speed of their step, and the shaking of their hands. The excited look of parents pushing a balloon tied wheelchair to the front doors - their son or daughter being discharged. The worn look on parents faces as they walk slowly to the doors, carrying dufflebags, backpacks and luggage. Going home for a decent shower, a better but still restless night sleep and hopefully coming back with some type of new found energy.
I made the comment that I had packed my carryon luggage, dragged it up so many elevators and down long halls that I could have reached flight attendant status. We were only there 30 days. Ryan met a mom whose baby has been there all 9 months of her life, some kids have been there almost a year. I don't know how they do it. Well, I guess in some way I do. You just do it. What other choice do you have? This is your child, your most precious gift from our Father in Heaven, and I know that as parents we will do anything and everything to protect our children and make them happy.
I watched all these people walking in and out of the doors. I was amazed at how many times I could see myself in each of their eyes. The worry, the fear, the hope, the longing to be with other children but the guilt of leaving the child behind, the joy, the anticipation....... so many different emotions run through your mind and hear constantly.
I know we are learning many lessons from this trial. Some we may not know for years to come. But for now, one thing we have come to more fully recognize is that everyone faces a trial and hurts somewhere and at sometime in their life. How many faces do we see each day? What emotions do they show and what emotions do they hide? I think Ryan and I have become slower to make judgements, quicker to offer a prayer on someones behalf and jump at the chance to hug or serve someone. I think we can all see pain in the faces of people we meet. We might not be able to understand but we can understand that a smile really does go along way.
One night I was driving home from the hospital and stopped at a Chevron to get a drink. I had been sobbing the whole way there and trying not to cry while filling my drink. I know my eyes were puffy, swollen and I looked terrible. I went to the counter, eyes down and barely looked to the cashier. As I gave him my money he looked directly at me and smiled. He could tell something was wrong and rather than avoid contact he made the point to give me a concerned smile. I still continued to cry the rest of my trip home, but for a few seconds I felt relief and comfort from this stranger. Everday as we pass the faces in the crowd, will we be the one to offer a smile, concern, possibly a hug and a listening ear? I know that we are trying to do just that, because it is what has helped us so much.
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