My daughter has been in the hospital for nearly a week now. Because of the move, my business trip, and now this, I’ve stayed in seven hotels, in the last three weeks.
Last night my husband picked up my sons and took them back “home,” leaving me at the Ronald McDonald House, with an empty stroller that he couldn’t fit into his car.
My heart felt empty as I looked around at yet another unfamiliar place, full of unfamiliar people.
I wandered around, observing families rushing off the to hospital, only to drag their weary bodies back later that night. A mixture of hope and brokenness, all blended into one big kitchen where we all ate together, yet alone.
The Ronald McDonald House didn’t have room for me tonight, so this morning I checked out and found myself pushing a childless stroller, piled high with all my stuff, around the hospital, wondering if anyone was noticing me.
I’m sitting in the cafeteria now, and there’s a young doctor sitting in the corner crying. I wonder what’s on his mind. Perhaps the enormity of his job? Waking up day after day to step into a world that he only enters, in an effort to try and pull others out.
It’s the humanity of the situation that stands out to me the most. The humanity I’ve seen on such a deep level these last few days, when death knocks on the door and we all try to hold it shut.
The burdens we carry, alone, when what we really need most, is the humanity of others.
My daughter will be OK, but not before we are here for another few weeks. So while I’m here, I’m going to work on getting my head out of my own space, and opening up my mind to include others.
I’m not the only one suffering, and for those lucky enough not to be suffering at all, it doesn’t cease to exist just because we are too busy to notice.
So today I challenge you to be thankful for the great day you’re having, and spend five minutes doing something for someone who may not be so lucky.
Show a little humanity to the ones carrying their burdens alone.
And then if you can, please come back here and comment on what you did to make someone smile, so that while I’m sitting there tonight, in another unfamiliar place, after dragging my weary body through the doors, I’ll know that I’m not as alone as it sometimes feels.
It’s hard to feel alone, when we know that people notice us.
It’s as simple as that.
**Reposted from my Facebook page a few days ago. Little one is still in the hospital, so please keep praying!