Hospital waiting rooms have to be some of the most depressing places on earth. Today, Andy and I were visiting with some friends whose sister was having a procedure done, and as we walked around, we came up on several waiting rooms, each full of family and friends waiting. Some were talking, some in their own world of worry and fear. Some were watching the t.v. that had CNN scrolling the same sound bites every 10 minutes, not even paying attention to it. A few were eating, some read. Not many made eye contact beyond the initial recognition that we were not who they were expecting, then the head went down again.

Once we found our friends, it was chit-chat. We got caught up on what was going on with their sister, and briefly spoke to her husband. I could tell he didn't want to listen to us - he soon went behind the door to see if he could be with his wife. His eyes showed tiredness and worry - eyes that I have seen twinkle in laughter pretty much all my life. That's the look of a hospital waiting room.

It made me aware that people just need someone there to sit and wait with them - to help the long hours pass by until the doctor pops in for two minutes to give you an update. It's not much to do - but so important. I hope we were able to comfort and give a little cheer to my friends today; such a small thing that can mean so much.