This morning the operating room staff went for a tour of the new Post-Surgical Building. Our current facility is the original (plus some simple extensions as we grew), dating back to the 1960's. The cement is crumbling, there is barely any airflow, it's dark, and it was time for a change. So we are nearing the end of Phase I, next up is OB, then medicine/peds, then . . . I forget.
It's been a long process (not sure how long, but I'm confident that someone from my team will read this and let me know just how long, so be sure to check back for details). And we're nearing the end!
But you don't want to read about buildings . . . okay, really, I don't want to write about buildings, I want to write about people. So, I arrived on the tail end of the OR staff's tour of the new facility. And experiencing it with them was a privilege.
At first, with all the Oooh's and Aaah's I heard as I approached the building, I half expected to see the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree up in the foyer . . . instead it was the hospital logo painted on the wall.
'Déborah! Régarde! C'est trop modern!' the Chef d'équip (the boss) of the OR said to me.
The were impressed with everything . . . tile on the floor, strips painted in the hallway, the metal and glass doors, the high ceilings in the hallways . . . it was like nothing they'd ever seen.
They gaped, wide eyed; they gasped with glee.
It was the way I felt the first time I walked into the lobby of the Ritz.
Back home, this new building would be nothing spectacular . . . it wouldn't be prized, it wouldn't be impressive.
But it's all about perspective, isn't it?!?!
Here, on the south-side of the Sahara, when I see metal, cement, and floor tiles, my friends and coworkers see the Taj Mahal of hospitals.
Our Director was telling me that he took some staff through the other day, and one turned to him and asked 'So this building is for staff only right?' 'No, it's for our patients!' 'But it's too nice [for villagers]!!'
Like children around the Christmas tree, my coworkers were awed. It was spectacular to see their faces and enjoy their delight. To feel their glee and share their wonder. Not because I was impressed with a building I've entered many times through it's process . . . but because their joy gave me joy.
As I was following them back to the 'old' hospital, I had to wonder if I was feeling, on a very small scale, how God our Father feels when we find joy in His creation. When we are in awe of what He has done for us. When we are speechless at His gifts.
With Christmas only a few days away, it was a strong, tangible, example of the way I should walk into the stable . . . seeing The Baby in the manger as if for the first time. Hearing the wonder of His birth as if I was a child. Rejoicing that the story doesn't end with the wise men bringing gifts.
Knowing, that when I delight in the coming of the Son, the Father delights in having given Him.