Again

Work lately has been teaching me something about repetition. Something about knowing. And something about patience.

I walked down the hall the other day and a deep sigh washed over me as I stuffed my pager back into my pocket. Room 318. Again. I knew the routine: knock, smile, help, leave. I also had a pretty good idea of what the need would be. She would still be weak on the same side, unable to reach for the same things, and in need of my assistance with the same tasks. My job is pretty repetitious: help the same people with the same things in the same way... every day.

For some reason on this particular day, the repetition was getting to me. I was feeling a bit robotic as I went in and out of each room, completing the routine tasks of the day.

However, just before I entered room 318 a thought flew through my head. How similar am I to these patients that I care for? From the perspective of my Father, how repetitious are my needs? How often do I fall in the same ways, cry over the same wounds, and nag about the same needs?

And yet, He sees. He knows. And He doesn't sigh.


Isaiah 41:10
So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.