What Marilyn says here about hospital waiting rooms is capital pastoral theology. I have often had the same thoughts about riding the bus, except the stories are a little less desperate. Witnessing souls at the crossroads of their lives… Reminds me of one of my best beloved quotes:
There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilisations – these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit – immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. … Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses.
—C.S. Lewis “The Weight of Glory”
Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other’s eyes for an instant?” – Henry David Thoreau
Everyone should have to go into a hospital waiting room once a week and just sit – just sit and observe. I believe the results of such an experiment would be extraordinary.
Because it’s in the hospital waiting room where outward beauty is revealed for what it is and inward beauty shines.
It’s in the hospital waiting room where we are among those walking wounded. Those who bear their scars with nobility. It’s in hospital waiting rooms that you don’t try to hide tears; where you can’t hide anger or disappointment and where shock is just a part of the day’s story.
It’s in hospital waiting rooms where you realize that you share a lot more with fellow humans than you choose to admit. Where you realize that…
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