I'm beyond excited to include a guest post from Jennifer Duke's Lee on my blog!! EEEK! I am part of the launch team for her newest book "It's All Under Control" and let me tell you this is good food for your soul! I can't recommend the book enough ... so without further ado here's Jennifer ...
The Ache of the Waiting Room ....
This is the waiting room. Welcome. You know this place, don’t you? When we are in the waiting room, we eventually have to make this choice: We can either distance ourselves from God or we can trust him in the wait.
This truth became so evident to me over the last three years, a season when I’ve logged
many hours in waiting rooms—literal ones. Waiting for a friend when she had a
cancerous lump removed. Waiting for our daughter Anna when she underwent
procedures for a digestive problem. Waiting for Dad when he had a pacemaker put in,
and then more waiting when he had part of his right leg amputated.
many hours in waiting rooms—literal ones. Waiting for a friend when she had a
cancerous lump removed. Waiting for our daughter Anna when she underwent
procedures for a digestive problem. Waiting for Dad when he had a pacemaker put in,
and then more waiting when he had part of his right leg amputated.
I’ve found that waiting rooms everywhere are a lot alike. An interior decorator has done
what he or she could to make the place inviting. Chairs are upholstered in trendy colors.
Fake greenery has been arranged in matchy-matchy ceramic pots.
what he or she could to make the place inviting. Chairs are upholstered in trendy colors.
Fake greenery has been arranged in matchy-matchy ceramic pots.
Meanwhile, the one you love is on an operating table.
Your inner “fixer” is paralyzed. Unless you happen to have a degree in neurosurgery or
anesthesiology, you are clearly not needed. You are, instead, stuck—feeling rather
powerless—in the waiting room. If you’re lucky, a digital board identifies your loved
one by a number and provides periodic status reports.
Your inner “fixer” is paralyzed. Unless you happen to have a degree in neurosurgery or
anesthesiology, you are clearly not needed. You are, instead, stuck—feeling rather
powerless—in the waiting room. If you’re lucky, a digital board identifies your loved
one by a number and provides periodic status reports.
My family of origin tends to be the obnoxiously loud ones in the waiting room.
Humor has always been a coping mechanism for us. I suppose there could be worse
things than laughing through hard times.
Humor has always been a coping mechanism for us. I suppose there could be worse
things than laughing through hard times.
Our stories in the waiting room kept us sane during one of Dad’s recent surgeries.
Every so often, one of us would step out of our circle, somber faced, to check the digital
board. A sister would whisper, “Still in surgery.” We’d pause, and then we’d all start
in again. Here in the waiting room, it was about stories, connection, laughter.
It was about family.
Every so often, one of us would step out of our circle, somber faced, to check the digital
board. A sister would whisper, “Still in surgery.” We’d pause, and then we’d all start
in again. Here in the waiting room, it was about stories, connection, laughter.
It was about family.
There was no pushing, only pausing.
Oddly, these moments, when I sat miles away from the answers I wanted, were an
unexpected gift because they caused me to consider the practice of being still. I did not
flit or fly. I was a bird on a wire, wings tucked in, waiting for hope to appear, inching up
from the horizon.
unexpected gift because they caused me to consider the practice of being still. I did not
flit or fly. I was a bird on a wire, wings tucked in, waiting for hope to appear, inching up
from the horizon.
Waiting has compelled me to understand that I’m not in charge of the world and that my
notions of control are all an illusion anyway. Waiting can feel like a weakness,
especially in a culture that places a high value on self-sufficiency and
“making things happen.” Waiting is the opposite of sufficiency, and it leaves me
exposed and armorless.
notions of control are all an illusion anyway. Waiting can feel like a weakness,
especially in a culture that places a high value on self-sufficiency and
“making things happen.” Waiting is the opposite of sufficiency, and it leaves me
exposed and armorless.
I step into so much of my life wearing armor: The armor of ambition. The armor of good
performances. The armor of masks. The armor of control. The armor of trying harder.
performances. The armor of masks. The armor of control. The armor of trying harder.
There is no armoring up when you’re waiting. You simply wait, stripped down,
vulnerable before your struggle. You can fix nothing. You are not in charge now—not
that you ever were—but the armor you wear on a typical day gave you a false sense
of security. You finally realize there shall be no pulling yourself up by your bootstraps.
This can be a very beautiful thing. When you pause—instead of push—you do all the
things that matter most: You pray. You read Scripture. You sit quietly—or laugh loudly,
if that’s more your style—with friends and family. You practice allowing yourself
to be still.
vulnerable before your struggle. You can fix nothing. You are not in charge now—not
that you ever were—but the armor you wear on a typical day gave you a false sense
of security. You finally realize there shall be no pulling yourself up by your bootstraps.
This can be a very beautiful thing. When you pause—instead of push—you do all the
things that matter most: You pray. You read Scripture. You sit quietly—or laugh loudly,
if that’s more your style—with friends and family. You practice allowing yourself
to be still.
In the quietness of a hospital waiting room, I would often turn inward and whisper to
my Savior, “How would we get through this without you, Jesus?” Letting down your
faux armor causes you to more carefully inspect your life and discover how incredible
it is to belong to Jesus: Where, oh where, would we be without Jesus?
my Savior, “How would we get through this without you, Jesus?” Letting down your
faux armor causes you to more carefully inspect your life and discover how incredible
it is to belong to Jesus: Where, oh where, would we be without Jesus?
Where are you today, friend? Where, oh where, are you?
Perhaps you are in a waiting room of some kind too. Perhaps you wish to act instead
of wait. You want to take matters into your own hands but haven’t a clue how—or even
if you should.
of wait. You want to take matters into your own hands but haven’t a clue how—or even
if you should.
What are you waiting for? The answer to your financial distress? A baby to come?
A resolution to a relational conflict? The phone to ring? The wound to heal? The last
twenty pounds to drop? That moment when it’s your chance to finally celebrate?
A resolution to a relational conflict? The phone to ring? The wound to heal? The last
twenty pounds to drop? That moment when it’s your chance to finally celebrate?
You ask good questions for which there are no immediate answers:
Why is this opportunity slipping through my fingers?
How am I going to go on now that he’s gone?
Why is this opportunity slipping through my fingers?
How am I going to go on now that he’s gone?
Maybe today you actually are reading these words in a hospital waiting room while
someone you love is in the operating room, and your prayers seem to dissolve
into antiseptic air as you cry out silently: Are you here, God?
someone you love is in the operating room, and your prayers seem to dissolve
into antiseptic air as you cry out silently: Are you here, God?
Though he may be silent, God has not abandoned you. He is working while you wait.
The work that God does in the waiting room often proves more important than the end
result. Here he will give you clarity for what he wants you to do when the wait is over.
Here he will draw near to you. Here you will get in touch with your essential self,
the one who wasn’t made to wear all that armor.
result. Here he will give you clarity for what he wants you to do when the wait is over.
Here he will draw near to you. Here you will get in touch with your essential self,
the one who wasn’t made to wear all that armor.
This is the greatest gift of the waiting room. Lean in close, for when you least expect it, you will sense the presence of Jesus in ways you never could have before.
........
See I TOLD you it's good stuff ! Thanks Jennifer for allowing me to be part of your wonderful book launch!
AND not only that but Jennifer and her team at Tyndall are sponsoring a HUGE giveaway to celebrate the release of It’s All Under Control. They are giving away 50 copies of the book in celebration of its release! Follow the link below to win!! ... Giveaway ends September 30. Winners will be notified by Tyndale House Publishers.
https://gleam.io/tOdBG/its-all-under-control-50-book-giveaway 
This is a book for every woman who is hanging on tight and trying to get each day
right―yet finding that life often feels out of control and chaotic.
Adapted from:
It’s All under Control: A Journey of Letting Go, Hanging On,
and Finding a Peace You Almost Forgot Was Possible
by Jennifer Dukes Lee, releasing this fall from Tyndale House Publishers.
It’s All under Control: A Journey of Letting Go, Hanging On,
and Finding a Peace You Almost Forgot Was Possible
by Jennifer Dukes Lee, releasing this fall from Tyndale House Publishers.
