Who knows how many voices created the cacophony that filled the waiting room that night? Words, wails and whispers gave sound to the gamut of human experiences and emotions. But as I listened, I heard one clear, unwavering note that floated above the clamor.
"I hope she'll be all right."
"I hope the doctor can tell us what's wrong."
"We're hoping we can go home pretty soon."
"Well, we still have hope."
I remembered that the Hebrew word for "hope" is often translated into English as "waiting." And in that moment, the cacophony of waiting was transposed into a euphony of hope.