Is God A Parking Lot Attendant?

I'm sitting at Children's Hospital late at night.  Despite the beepings and busyness it is quiet.  I see so many sick children here--with injuries and cancer, broken bodies and broken spirits.  The very core of my soul cries WHY?

Kim is doing okay.  She's still struggling with nausea, but sleeping lots.  One time she woke up confused, mumbling, "Why does my head hurt?"

I will make sure I tease her about that when she is fully alert.

As I sit here I am reminded of the day I couldn't find a parking spot.  What better time to share the story?

Is God A Parking Lot Attendant?

I had come up to visit my dad.  He was at the Veteran's Hospital, which is connected to the Children's Hospital via two long skybridges.  I can see the other hospital out my window right now.

I came up on my lunch break, so I didn't have a lot of time.  I searched and searched for a parking spot at the Veteran's hospital, becoming more and more frustrated!  Nothing!  Round and round the parking garage I drove.  Mumbling under my breath, nervously checking my watch, and realizing I would have an ever shorter visit with my dad! 

In irritation I ranted, "Really God?  Can't You at least help me with a parking spot?"

In exasperation I finally drove clear around to the Children's Hospital and parked.  It meant would have to make my way through Children's and go across the two skybridges to get over to see dad!

I continued my apparent one-way conversation with God, when suddenly I was hit with an answer. 

Maybe God has a reason for me to be at Children's? Maybe He has something He wants me to do?  Someone He wants me to meet?

I was on the lookout the entire walk over to the Veteran's Hospital.  I didn't see anyone I knew or anyone who seemed to need my help.  Nobody needed CPR or even so much as a band-aid.  A mystery.  I enjoyed a short, but sweet, visit with my dad then headed back the way I came. 

As I stepped onto the first skybridge a thought occurred to me.  Maybe God just needs me to smile at people along the way.  Maybe God just needs me to encourage someone.

All along the corridors, hallways, elevators and bridges I smiled at everyone. I made eye contact with the mother holding her crying baby and gave her a knowing nod.  I told the little girl in the elevator that I liked her sparkly Hello Kitty Purse--she grinned.  I said a prayer for the bald mom in the wheelchair surrounded by a husband and six young sons in cowboy hats (I pray for her still).  

I'll never know for sure if God really planned this lesson in disguise.  But I'm glad I learned it.  I'm striving to ask "Why?" less, and to say, "Here I am," more. 

I'm a slow learner, but I have a very patient teacher.