Do You See What I See?
My appointment was almost over. There was just one last stop before I could go home. I was a new patient so the nurse kindly guided me to the lab. With the doctor’s orders in hand, I entered the lab and was promptly told to “sit out there’ by an unsmiling lab tech. As I sat down in the hallway, I felt a bit like a child waiting outside the principal’s office. I wondered what I did to evoke such a stern response. The lab tech was in the midst of dealing with another patient, so I reasoned that she was probably following protocol in such a tight space. I cautioned myself not to pre-judge this woman who would soon be drawing blood from my arm.
However when called in, her demeanor did not improve. She brusquely took my paperwork, silently pointed to the chair, and turned her attention to the computer. I sat down and watched her scowl at the screen clearly unhappy with what she saw. Finally, the printer chugged out the required labels. Silently, she put on new gloves and took the tubes she would need. Hoping to win some favor, I quickly pushed up my sleeves and asked, “Which arm?” She shrugged and said, “It doesn’t matter.” So I offered my right arm. After applying the tourniquet strap, she poked, thumped, and then deemed my right arm inadequate. Repeating the same procedure on my left arm, she seemed to find it just as inadequate. Nevertheless, she went ahead and inserted the needle into the most promising vein. Almost immediately, she pulled it out, bandaged the spot, and went back to my right arm. It was at that point that I began to wonder if I was the cause of her foul mood, or was I just making a bad day worse?
Happily, the second stick was a success, and she deftly went about the process of filling the vials. While she worked, I mentioned that I was once told I have “rolling veins.” She seemed to soften a bit and said, “Naw, they’re just small.” I chuckled and said, “Well, I guess I am small all over then…inside and out.” She smiled and said, “Me, too.” Somehow that smile and connection opened up a whole conversation about the woes of being short. I learned that she constantly has to use a stool in her kitchen or rely on her six foot son to reach things for her. I shared that I often ask tall shoppers to help me in the grocery store when I can’t reach things. I offered her my pick-up line, “Excuse me, may I borrow your height?” As she finished up and gently wrapped my arm with tape, I smiled and thanked her for her patience with my small veins. The smile she returned lifted me more than I can say. I walked out far happier than when I arrived.
As I drove home, I thought about this season of Advent when we are called to be watchful and awake. We are asked to watch for presence of Christ…not just the baby in the manger but the presence of Christ in each other. How easy it would have been to sit in that lab sullenly judging this woman who was tasked with trying to get blood from my small veins. Yet when I chose to engage her, I was able to look beyond her brusque manner. She was a mom who faced some of the same challenges I did. I will never know if I made an impression on her, but I left the doctor’s office with an appreciation of her knowledge, skills, and perseverance.
In the first stanza of an old Christmas carol, we sing “Do you see what I see?” I wonder now if God wasn’t nudging me to do the same that day. Asking me to see this woman as He does. Once I set my judgements aside, I saw His love in the woman’s gentle care, and expertise. And maybe, just maybe, she caught a glimmer of His love in me.
© Catherine Hause