Day 19 – Waiting room

Whenever I take my 8-year-old to his GP, he’ll always ask: “how long will we have to wait there, Dad?”. Even the name “waiting room”, means he’s probably picturing a bare room, where a huge clock loudly ticks and every second feels like it lasts. For. Ever. 

When we eventually arrive, he’ll ask again: “how long will we have to wait here, Dad?”. I’ll give him my best guess, but I know we’re already on borrowed time. 

Two minutes later? “How long…”. You get the idea. 

“I know son, waiting is hard”, I’ll say. 

Then he’ll usually ask for a story – the “pick your own adventure” kind, where I’ll narrate a scenario and he’s the central character. He tells me what he wants to do and I tell him what challenges await. In these adventure stories we’ve been everywhere – sneaking past Decepticon guards to deactivate their latest super weapon, diving in the ocean and exploring old ship-wrecks, digitally teleporting inside “Minecraft” and preparing for a zombie apocalypse. 

This kind of imaginative connection isn’t just for kids in waiting rooms. The founder of the Jesuits, Saint Ignatius of Loyola spent a long time bedbound, healing from a severe leg injury. During this waiting time he often imagined himself a Soldier of The Lord, preaching the Word and converting people to Christ.  

This part-daydream-part-prayer, helped him to connect deeply with Christ and left him with lasting peace as he waited and healed. This imaginative approach to prayer became central to his spiritual teachings and is still practised across the world, by people who use it not to escape from pain or waiting, but to deepen their connection with God and their engagement with the world. 

Back in my GP’s waiting room, all of this make-believe storytelling isn’t just entertainment or distraction to help my son wait, it’s connection. A really beautiful connection. The kind that changes waiting time into wonder time – a life giving, healthy and healing time.  

Often his question changes from “how long will we have to wait here, Dad?”, to something more like “how long will we get to wait here, Dad?”. The narrative holds the moment – but it’s the connection that makes this so life-giving. It lights him up like a wee Christmas tree and the time flies by faster than the Star Wars speeder bike that he once used to escape Darth Vader. 

You probably know this from your own life: when someone is really with you – fully attentive, fully present – you simply feel better. Something inside you settles. 

There’s a reason for that. Our mirror neurons, the parts of our brain that sense connection, light up when another person is attuned to us. And when they fire, they send a gentle cascade of chemicals through the body that softens us, steadies us and deepens our sense of being connected. 

This is not a small thing. Feeling truly met by another person is one of the quiet foundations of human health. 

Waiting times can be opportunities to connect deeply with one another and with God. In those moments, “waiting is hard”, can become “waiting is healing”. And “how long to do we have to wait here?”, can become “how long do we get to wait here”. 

Share your thoughts

Have you had moments in your life when the narrative has shifted from ‘how long do we have to wait?’ to ‘how long do we get to wait?’