April was eye surgery month. On two Wednesdays, two weeks apart, I had cataracts removed first from my left eye and then from my right eye. My eyes received what I consider “Bionic Woman” implants that restored vision I had not enjoyed since elementary school. These surgeries were preceded by a long appointment of measuring and testing with various machines and followed by more of the same.

And so we come to my struggle in the waiting room. A sign in the waiting room advised me to speak to someone if I had been waiting more than fifteen minutes. But what did I do after I had left the first waiting room and entered an examining room, waiting room two, where I was tended by two young women who looked as if they couldn’t be any older than high school sophomores? After the eye charts and the eye drops and the bright lights, they left me and told me the physician’s assistant would be in soon. Define “soon.”

This reminded me of another experience from several decades ago. Late one morning, I brought an infant and his four year old brother to the doctor’s office. We left the waiting room and entered waiting room two. We waited a long time. I nursed the infant and had to change him into the only diaper I had brought with me. I finally ran out of patience and left the exam room to tell someone I had been waiting a long time. There was no one to tell. The whole staff had left for lunch. (When they returned from lunch and realized what they had done, the boys’ examinations were free that day.)

Returning to the present day, I tried to be patient as I waited in waiting room two with nothing to read but an eye chart. I spent time praying for everyone I could think of and even ran out of people. I finally left the room and saw the two “high school sophomores” sitting at computers, chatting with each other. “I’ve been waiting a long time,” I told them, trying to keep the whine out of my voice. “Did you forget about me?” They assured me that everyone was running behind and someone would see me soon. Define “soon.”

Within minutes, the physician’s assistant entered waiting room two and explained she had been dealing with emergency calls all morning. She was apologetic and kind, despite the stressful morning she’d had. She did her thing with the fancy machine, updated me on my progress, and it was over.

Do you hate to wait as much as I do, especially when you don’t know why you’re waiting? You sit in a room, and no one tells you anything. I confess that prayer sometimes feels like that to me. God knows what I need. And I have told him what I need, just in case. But I don’t know why he doesn’t act. I don’t know why I’m waiting.

Years ago, I taught at Youth Challenge International Bible Institute, outside of Sunbury. Most of the students had come from rough, troubled backgrounds. Some had drug and alcohol addictions or were living on the streets of cities. Then they found Jesus or Jesus found them, however you want to look at it. I remember one man telling me, “My grandmother prayed for me for thirty years before I came to Christ.” At that time, as a young mother of young sons, I begged God, “Please, Lord, don’t put me on the thirty year plan!”

The 11th chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews in the New Testament reveals that many biblical characters, heroes of the faith as we church folk like to call them, were put on the thirty year plan. And worse. The epistle writer lists sixteen characters by name and also adds the categories of prophets and women without telling names. And then the chapter ends with this conclusion: “These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised, since God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect” (Hebrews 11:39-40 NIV).

What? They never got out of the waiting room?

I don’t like this, not one little bit. I have been studying, reading books, and trying to understand prayer for over half a century (In my Sunday School class, we are studying a book on prayer, which I recommend. It is the Red Letter Prayer Life by Bob Hostetler.) A Scripture passage like Hebrews 11:39-40 can make me wonder why. But another Scripture encourages me to keep praying, whether I understand prayer or not, and whether my finite mind can understand what the infinite God of the universe is doing. Luke 18:1 states, “Then Jesus told his disciples a parable [story] to show them that they should always pray and not give up.” (You can read the parable in verses 2 through 8 of Luke 18.)

Don’t stop praying. Join me in the waiting room. Our families need our prayers, as do our neighborhoods, our schools, our nation, our world, our enemies, and even ourselves.

Roberta Tucker Brosius, First Baptist Church, Milton