As I finished writing my name on the sign in sheet at my doctor’s office, I turned to make that all-important decision. I had to make a split second decision before anyone noticed me hesitating. Who looked the least contagious in the sea of germs that is a doctor’s waiting room? I scanned the room. I was definitely not going to take the chair beside the mother with two runny nosed kids. No offense but basic math said I had twice the chance of catching something over there. Okay, should I sit near the man with the hacking cough? Nah, for two reasons, one, I didn’t come in with a cough and two, he sounded like he was on a mission to cough up at least one of his lungs. I was not really feeling strong enough to see that! Well, that left one possible position. There was a sole woman sitting, quietly crocheting. She wasn’t coughing. She had no visible symptoms of illness. Maybe, like me, she was here just for blood work. Maybe she was having a well check. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t catch the dreaded H1N1 from sitting near her. I had almost run out of time to make my decision so I opted for the chair near her. She looked to be in her 70s. Your typical grandmotherly type, her glasses were perched precariously on the end of her nose but with no fear of losing them. Around her neck, she wore a beaded eyeglasses holder necklace. Her hands belied her age as they worked with the yarn in her hands. I slipped into the chair next to hers, hoping not to gain her attention. I had a book with me that I intended to get lost in as I waited for my turn. She glanced up, smiled and dropped her crocheting. As she reached up and removed her glasses from their position, I quickly realized that she intended to prevent my reading by having a conversation with me. Stubbornly, I opened my book, hoping that it would dissuade her.
“Is that a good book?” She asked me. Here was my chance.
“I don’t know yet but I’m dying to get started with it.” There, surely that would not encourage further conversation. I was wrong,
“I love to read and I’m always looking for new books to try. I’m a widow so I have plenty of time on my hands.” Well, there it was. I felt an unmistakable pang of guilt for having not wanted to talk with her. I closed the book and turned in my chair toward her.
“My mother tried to teach me to crochet when I was younger but I never could get the hang of it.” Her face lit up as she realized that I was going to engage her in a conversation.
“This will be the sixteenth scarf I’ve made this winter,” she announced proudly.
“Wow,” I answered. “Are you making them to sell?” I figured with that many under her belt; she had to have an outlet for them. No one would make that many scarves just for themselves.
“No, I make them to give away.” She answered. “Mostly to all of the people who take care of me, mostly my sweet nurses. I have four more to finish.” Intrigued by the large number of nurses that she mentioned, I asked,
“Are there that many nurses employed here?”
“Oh not just here, honey. I also go to the cancer center for my chemo.” Ouch, the pang was back.
“So you have cancer?”
“I did,” she announced proudly. “But I’m in remission now.”
“Thank God.” I offered.
“Yes, thank God, but He was the One who gave it to me too.” I could feel myself tense up and bristle. I felt a blame game starting and I wasn’t in the mood to argue with a senior citizen. I detest how people, all of us, blame God for everything and thank Him for very little, if at all. I set my mind for it and asked,
“Excuse me, what?” She smiled as if I had fallen into some invisible trap that she had set for me.
“God gave me cancer.” She repeated her unusual proclamation. The look on my face must have let her know that I was not amused with her ranting so she continued before I could speak again.
“Do you know Jesus Christ as your personal Savior?” She asked. What? How had she made that turn?
“Absolutely,” I answered still unsure as to where she was taking this conversation.
“Wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I thank God for that and for giving me the courage to ask you that.” I didn’t know what to say. I was still curious as to her earlier statement about God giving her cancer. Again, she took my silence as an opening to continue our conversation.
“You see, I’m in my 70s (I had guessed correctly) and I’m retired so I don’t run into a lot of people. I’ve always been a little too shy for my own good too.”
“She thinks she’s shy?” I wondered but didn’t interrupt her.
“I prayed and asked God to give me the courage and the opportunity to witness for Him. I’m ashamed to say that I never used to witness like we Christians are supposed to so when I found out that I had breast cancer, I was terrified and prayed for God to heal me. It was then that I realized that He had given me a mission ground. Now, I get to witness to every doctor, nurse and other chemo patients that I run into on this journey.” My silence this time was disbelief. She smiled even bigger and added, “I’ve prayed with two of my nurses for them to receive Christ as their Savior and several others have shared prayer requests with me. I pray with them and have their requests written in my Bible so that I can continue to pray for them later. God gave me cancer to give me courage and the opportunity to further His Kingdom. He isn’t through with me yet. As long as He leaves me here, I’m not going to waste anymore time, ever.” Again, I was stunned into silence. Ouch, another pang hit me. This pang was one of shame, not guilt. Would I have to be struck with cancer before I had the courage to witness? Emotions and questions raced through me head. I offered a prayer asking God to forgive me for my selfish, lazy attitude in witnessing for Him. All of these things were tumbling over in my mind, consuming my thoughts when a nurse appeared in the waiting room and called my friend back for her appointment. We exchanged goodbyes and smiles and then I was left in the waiting room with my thoughts and an empty chair beside me. Before long, my attention focused on the woman at the front desk, scanning the room as I had done earlier. As she neared the chair that my friend had just vacated, I took a deep breath, straightened in my seat and smiled at her, readying myself for the conversation I was about to initiate. I wasn’t going to wait for a bout with cancer to have the courage to proclaim my witness for Jesus Christ.
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