the waiting room

My youngest son was born missing a wall in his heart. Before the wall could be fixed, he became critically ill, as at five months old, he contacted a severe respiratory virus that threatened his life. We found ourselves spending most of March of 2002 in the cardiac ICU ward at Children’s Hospital in Cincinnati. It was a sobering, challenging, gut-wrenching time.

While my family and I will forever be thankful for those who walked beside us then — the guests, gifts, helping hands and prayers across the globe — there were also many moments spent alone — often quietly only with our son, who was unable to respond.

Food was not permitted in the ICU wing, so one of those lonely Sunday evenings I remember strolling into the visitors’ lounge, attempting to pick at some semblance of dinner, even though my heart was totally elsewhere. I wasn’t actually alone in the lounge that night; already visiting were five very large, probably 250 lb. plus African-American men.

The five were talking amidst one another, in a fairly lively manner, with ESPN tuned into on the corner television. I sat alone at the table, picking at my food. They made no effort to speak to me — nor me to them.

With the top of the hour came the sports network’s lead story: an NBA coach had made a racially inflammatory comment; his comment was directed toward the hiring of African-American coaches.

The waiting room went silent.

Together we watched the in depth reports — sitting still even as ESPN moved to the next story. All lively conversation from my fellow lounge visitors had quickly come to a halt. Here I sat… me the only Caucasian in the room… seemingly half each man’s size… amidst a group which was understandably, obviously disturbed by what they had just heard.

I realized then that often we are only good at communicating with those who look like us. We often only attempt to communicate when we’re fairly certain the other person is likeminded — and that likeminded calculation is typically driven by an instant assessment of outward appearance; our communication is often based on outward appearance. And even though our outward appearances were strikingly different that day, I knew I needed to speak to those men.

“You know why that guy says things like that?” And with those brief words acutely cutting the silence, I could tell I stunned each of the five, as I had their immediate attention; they stared straight at me — silent — undoubtedly unsure what was about to next come out of my mouth.

I looked them square in the eye. I paused. And then I boldly said, “Because his team ain’t winning. When teams aren’t winning, people say stupid things.”

“Amen!” went the room, and instantaneously the liveliness returned, as did the chorus of smiles and extended amens, as we now all chatted together. We talked about professional basketball. We talked about Shaq and Kobe and Michael’s return from retirement. If my memory serves me correctly, we even went on to discuss the upcoming NFL draft. But then, a most beautiful thing happened…

After 10 or so minutes of discussing current sporting events, we moved on to the more significant. We began to share why each of us was sitting in that waiting room. The reality was that we were in the ICU ward because someone we loved — a child, no less — was critically ill.

I realized that when I had first walked into that room, there was no attempt by any of us to discern the heart of the other; we were distracted by our own passions. No one was mean or disrespectful; we just made no attempt to sincerely communicate. Most likely we had made a few judgments about each other based on outward appearance. When then faced with the racial disrespect, those subtle judgments began swirling in our minds — even in our silence.

If we are going to communicate in a healthy way, friends, we must refrain from such external judgment — judgment which too often hails from every ethnic, income, intellect, political, and demographic group. Judgment will always obstruct the most important communication… whether that happens in Baltimore, Maryland or the hospital waiting room.

I was able to eat a little bit more of my dinner that night. I left shortly thereafter with high fives, hugs, and a shared commitment to pray for one another’s loved ones. I was thankful to talk about what was most important.

Respectfully…

AR