It was Friday and we were blessed enough to have a one-digit census; not so likely for the ward that caters 24 patients or more. It was a peaceful day, the sun outside shines happily as if it will never have a chance tomorrow again to marvel at the sky. I started my notes early, and yawning from once in a while. That's the irony of having a low census; you look for adrenaline rush you used to deal with everyday. I made a quick rounds again and positioned myself on the cozy swivel chair, still yawning upon seeing the clock that seems so slow in doing its job. When you are accustomed of always being on the go, it's a toil sitting still and waiting for something for your hands to work with. I looked at the clock again, with my eyes getting narrow out of being somewhat irritated not having anything to do. I cannot finish the lines in my nurse's notes. The lack of pressure from time constrained led me to procrastination. So there I was, whining of slow ticks of time. Not until the afternoon came and so my admissions did. One after the other, with all the procedures here and there. The pins from my braided hair is at the brink of giving up it nearly fell off from my once neatly tied hairdo. I dragged the swivel chair aside so it may not block the way I'm getting things done. It turned out that the clock seemed to speed up from its pleasant job I wanted to show it that traffic lights consist of RED light. The more that I gazed to its hands, the more my heart seemed to pump harder. It's almost endorsement time, and my notes were left clean and span--I haven't finish any file.
I grabbed the swivel chair to the pantry, did my notes in extended period of time and avoided to see the clock at the wall. Though I controlled my fits of gazing at it, I can feel the coldness of the swivel chair left unused for quite sometime. Now that I'm sitting at it, I'm feeling the comfort I was not able to appreciate earlier when everything was smooth and easy. When I have all the ample time to make things done without sweat.
Sometimes time stand still, allowing us quiet hiatal periods to see and feel the things around us. But because the world's noise has taken us to be accustomed to restlessness, quiet moments are taken for granted. We want to rush time, we want to rush things. But God is delaying the ticks of the clock to slow us down, to enable us to listen with an open heart. Because it is in those times He wants to speak with us. And it took the swivel chair to laugh at me to realize these.
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