Good news...

The news about my physical condition was good. The ultrasound showed no sign of "stray" cancerous thyroid tissue. Lymph nodes look good. No roadblocks, new challenges before the July 6 - 10 week of intensive followup tests. Good news on the physical healing front. But I wasn't so pleased with what I learned about my impatient spirit.

Four hours of waiting for four minutes with my surgeon today...
The wait should have been no surprise.
Last fall, when I learned I had a malignancy, Dr. Olson worked me in. I was upset and anxious about the news that my tumor was malignant and I would need to have another surgery as soon as possible. Twice in two years has been a lot. Since Dr. Olson is one of the best endoctrine surgeons in the country--and one of the few who monitors the vocal chords during thyroid surgery-- I waited with gratitude last October. Supremely skilled surgeons spend most of their time in the operating room--not in the office-- and only have clinic one day a week. So of course I had a long wait. We all did. And while we waited, my confidence in this doctor swelled. I waited with people who had, literally, come from across the nation to see him. The next appointment, three weeks after surgery, was another long wait. But, at that time, I felt so relieved that I could talk and the incision was healing that the time didn't seem to matter.

Today, I am feeling great and, apparently, that restored sense of well being hasn't done much for my outlook. I realized that I'm back to my old take-things-for-granted self. Because when I had to wait 4 hours AGAIN today, my patience didn't hold out.

Truth be told, I didn't have anything to complain about. Schedule-wise, I had the whole day blocked out for this 6 month post op checkup. Because of the previous waits, I had brought a bag full of things to do. I could easily have sat another four hours before I would have been out of something to read or write. (I did get to read two the Alban Institute's new publications: Can Our Church Live? Redeveloping Congregations in Decline by Alice Mann and Ending with Hope--A Resource for Closing Congregations by Beth Ann Gaede, editor. I HIGHLY recommend both.)

But, as the afternoon wore on, my patience wore out. And I found myself saying that this long wait was ridiculous. I had things to do (although I had brought them with me). I grumbled that, with all the brilliant minds at Duke, looks like someone could figure out how to schedule patients so they didn't have to wait half a day...

And, at least for awhile, I forgot. I forgot the most important things. I forgot what an extraordinary privilege it is to have a brilliant surgeon who saved my life and my voice. And, sitting in a crowded waiting room with people from all over the country who have traveled to see this surgeon, I forgot how grateful I am that this exceptional surgeon is just two hours from my home -- and just five minutes from where my daughter Christi lives. I lost sight of how grateful I am that the recovery has been smooth and even the followup radioactive treatment was painless and powerful. The long wait brought out my impatient, complaining self. And that's not something I am proud of.

Thinking this through as I drove home, I wondered if the constant stream of complaints in the superintendency has adversely affected me. Maybe it has. Just like with PPRCs, people think the superintendency is the complaint department, not the support department. And, believe me, they complain about anything and everything. But that was true in the local church pastorate, too. We all live in a complaining culture. And, just like I did this afternoon, complaining quickly becomes second nature. We lose sight of what is most important and we do so unnecessarily. I tend to think it is lazy habits combined with our fallen nature and the culture is so complaint-saturated that we don't even recognize what whiners we are.

If this afternoon is any sign, I'm not much of a model for keeping perspective. But, before the day was over, I realized how quickly I degenerated from gratitude to grumbling. I'm embarrassed that, just six months after this amazing surgery, I was already back into my take-health-for-granted mode. And I lost sight of the privilege I was experiencing because I had hoped to get home to get some work done for tomorrow's preachers' meeting. Lord, have mercy.

The loss of a sense of gratitude is the breeding ground for loss of perspective...for individuals and for congregations. I thank God for grace, new insights and new beginnings.