Room 111. Very clean, quiet, except when my wife and a family member of a patient across the hall turns up Dancing With The Stars too loud. For some reason, when the Italian guy comes on, dancing with Cheryl, there is a need to turn the volume up for some reason. They ain’t listening, they are looking…at the Italian guy.
In the corner of Room 111 there is a big brown chair beside the bed. Its later in the night and things are quiet now and in the room with the big brown chair which I am now sitting in, my mom, is laying in the bed next to the big brown chair, eyes closed and at certain moments I watch her chest to see if it is continuing to move up and down. Its that quiet.
In the other rooms is probably the same big brown chair, but in mine, there is a comfort, a safety, a complete knowing that I am in the right place and that all is well and as it should be. But, how can all things be right? I am sitting in the corner of Room 111 in a big brown chair at Sacred Journey Hospice.
Yet, here I sit, quietly, almost asleep.
Over the next few days I will begin to move from room to room and meet patients and other family members and most likely will begin our conversation this way, “Hi, I’m John. What’s your story?”
My best gut guess is that there will be many stories, some sad but most inspiring. They will tell me of their faith, of their battle, what they expect to happen next on their journey and what they will leave behind for others.
But tonight, I am just sitting in this big brown chair and the same verse keeps running through my mind and now my heart. It seems so appropriate in this place, as though it was written for such a circumstance. Maybe for those who have sailed a stormy sea for years and they are looking forward to the end of the adventure.
I love these words.
“He caused the storm to be still, so that the waves of the sea were hushed. Then they were glad because they were quiet; so he guided them to their desired haven.” Psalm 107:29-30
Over the next few days I will meet some who the waves have tossed about for some time and now the waves of the sea are hushed. And they are glad in these final days that they are quiet. And I hope that each one will reach their desired haven.
And I contemplate all of this from the corner of Room 111…in the big brown chair.