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30
We ran like our lives depended on it.
<p><br/></p><p>It was my very first night shift outside school — 15 hours at a standard hospital, in the female surgical ward.</p><p><br/></p><p>The night itself wasn’t bad. Busy, yes. Strict nurse, yes. But manageable. I even dozed off once or twice (melatonin is a strong enemy at 3 a.m. 🥴).</p><p><br/></p><p>Morning came, and with it, the wait.</p><p>We couldn’t leave until the morning nurses arrived so we could do “handover” — passing on every detail of the night’s patients, files, and notes. It’s a long process, but necessary.</p><p><br/></p><p>Except… our morning guys were late.</p><p>The bus to take us back had already arrived, and every other ward was done.</p><p>We stood there, tired, frustrated, trying to keep our cool while waiting for them.</p><p><br/></p><p>Finally, they came. We did the handover, and the moment we were released, it was a full-on marathon. We ran through the hospital like kids chasing after ice cream trucks. Breathless. Laughing. Praying the bus wouldn’t leave us.</p><p><br/></p><p>And it struck me later: isn’t life like that sometimes?</p><p>We wait. We stress. We anticipate. We feel the pressure of responsibilities.</p><p>And then, when the time finally comes, it feels like a sprint to catch up.</p><p><br/></p><p>But here’s the gospel truth: God doesn’t run late. His timing is always right on time. “The vision is for an appointed time… though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry</p><p>” (Habakkuk 2:3).</p>
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