My Sinisterhand

…for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come,
or a plane to go or the mail to come,
or the rain to go or the phone to ring,
or the snow to snow or waiting around for a
Yes or a No or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

-Theodor Geisel, or “Dr. Seuss”

It so sublime and infinitely pleasing to my soul to hear tender words uttered by those in a state of constant struggle. Below is a letter written by the daughter of good friends, or rather family. It is such a blessing to my heart to know this young woman.

Sitting anxiously in the waiting room, listening to the clock tick every second as the day grows old, hearing every beat my heart makes as we wait for the doctor to call my name. The tingling feeling I have in my stomach that seems to have me wanting to be back in the chair only grows larger when it’s time for me to make my walk to the operating room, which seemed to take a lifetime, in my mind. It’s about that time of the year when my Cystic Fibrosis really starts to kick my butt, or in the literal case, my lungs. Living with a genetic lung disease for my whole life has brought me to believe that the best gifts I’m given are the one that take thought, the ones that show me I’m not alone. As I was lying on the table, ready to get an IV, I heard a song in the background, a song by Sam Cooke that said, “The best things in life, they’re free.” The song put me at ease knowing that through my whole life of getting Get Better gifts, this was the truth. No expensive gift or amount of money can compare to all the smiles, support and faith, and the quality time that I receive on my road to feeling better.

The one thing so many people believe is the most contagious, the most extraordinary gift someone can pass along, the one thing many find hard to resist is a smile. I walk through the halls on the floor, imagining every escape route possible, trying to find a way to leave what my roommates called a hell hole, the place I have to stay for three weeks, as they fill my veins with medications whose names are never pronounced correctly. “How are you doing today?” comes out of the nurse’s mouth, and I want to answer him with, “I can’t respond to that positively when I’m stuck here!” But I wait because something stops me in my tracks, as if what I wanted to say no longer existed in my mind. A smile, sitting upon his face, makes it seem as if my troubles were lifted by a small gesture as strong as one hundred men. That one smile made me smile, then those after me, spreading around the floor like dominoes, knocking each other over, one after another. This is one gift that felt great to receive, the one that made my day less irritating, and it didn’t cost him a penny.

Feeling slightly better about being here, I head to my room where I surprisingly find my family of parents, sister and brother, and aunts and uncles, waiting for me. We exchange our smiles, which seems to brighten up the room, as if every light in the hospital comes on. We sit around my bed, talk about what we will do when I get home and where I want to eat, and play games like Chutes and Ladders to make time go by faster while all of the medicines and treatments are given to me. Then it dawns on me: another gift that can’t be bought is the quality time I get to spend with the ones I love the most. Although it had cost them some money for gas to drive to the hospital, it was worth it, the fact they came to see me and cheer me up, all of it made me think, “It’s not so bad staying here when I have my family keeping me company.”

Throughout my stay, I sit on my bed looking through all the colorful cards with hearts that I received, the elegant looking flowers with purple ribbons tied around each stem and fluffy, velvet teddy bears saying “Get Well Soon,” and I can’t help but wonder how much support I have from my friends and family and how much faith they have in me. As I read the uplifting notes they have written me, something appears yet again, my smile. When I get done with all of the gifts, a preacher comes in and prays with me so I know that along with my family being there for me, so is God. Even a complete stranger can give me support and faith with just a simple prayer to get me along my way, another “priceless” way of showing me he cares for my well-being.

Once I leave the hospital and head back to my home where I know I can feel safe with no worries, I come to the conclusion that all the thoughtful gifts like balloons or flowers, or even if it’s just showing up to see me, are better than any other pricey piece of merchandise. The simplest words of “I’m here for you,” or a smile from someone whose name I can’t recall can make my day any day. The sweetest gifts I received were free. Sam Cooke’s song will forever linger in my mind whenever I go through something life changing or even something that worries me the slightest bit.

-Alyssa

‘Strange, piteous, futile thing!
Wherefore should any set thee love apart?
Seeing none but I makes much of naught’ (He said),
‘And human love needs human meriting:
How hast thou merited—
Of all man’s clotted clay the dingiest clot?
Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art!
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,
Save Me, save only Me?
All which I took from thee I did but take,
Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might’st seek it in My arms.
All which thy child’s mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:
Rise, clasp My hand, and come!’

Halts by me that footfall:
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
‘Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest!
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.’

-Francis Thompson