A poem: The Waiting Room Chair

 I know this chair,

  for I have sat in it before. 

I've spent hours here, 

  in prayer, on my phone,

    thinking of what is happening 

behind the door down the hallway.

This chair is no different 

  than the countless other

waiting room chairs that I have sat in,

  patiently and prayerfully 

asking God to heal, to be with her,

  to take away my fatigue. 

This chair is sacred, for it is a 

  place of prayer. While there is no

baptismal font, or altar with the 

bread and wine, it is made holy

  by the Presence of God,

who sits next to me,

  softly assuring me that

  He is with me, seated in the next

uncomfortable chair.