Take a Number, Please: In Other Words … Wait

By Gilda C. Hoychick

Life is about living, and one thing we know for sure is that living involves waiting. We wait our turn by taking a number, or maybe one is assigned to us. We wait to see a doctor; our name is on a list. We wait to renew our license; we pulled a number. We wait for an available table; we’re handed a digital pager. We sometimes feel we spend most of our lives waiting for something or someone.

And then there is waiting on God. In her book, Take a Number, Please: In Other Words … Wait, author Gilda C. Hoychick shares stories about waiting. This collection of personal anecdotes and wisdom found in God’s Word will make you smile and reflect on times of waiting in your life. She also uses the Bible to teach important lessons relevant to living a Christian life.

Take a Number, Please: In Other Words … Wait, is a celebration of God and His infinite love and grace for us. You will find hope and encouragement through these pages of memoirs and times of waiting; most important, waiting on, trusting in, and putting your hope in the Lord. After all, He is the One who holds all the numbers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781973653875

Gilda C. Hoychick

Gilda C. Hoychick has lived in central Louisiana for almost twenty years. As a child of God, she feels blessed beyond measure at being a wife of over fifty years, mother, and grandmother. She and her husband, Darryl, have four children, eleven grandchildren, four great-grandchildren, and an Australian cattle dog named Sheela.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Peg of Numbers

M any years ago, my best friend and I were discussing and laughing about a life situation when I said, "If I ever write a book, I’m going to title it Take a Number, Please ." We laughed heartily, and I mean heartily.

Me write a book? The concept was so absurd for someone who spoke in short, to-the-point, almost bulleted sentences and used few adjectives. Just the thought of that conversation makes me smile because I knew that day as well as today that I could never write a book.

Now, thirty-five years later, I still don’t doubt my inability to author a book in my own wisdom and ability, but I do trust in the words of Jesus who said, With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible (Matthew 19:26).

As years came and went, I began having what I would call pop-up thoughts from time to time about writing a book with the title that had brought such a chuckle many years earlier, Take a Number, Please. The thought would come to mind usually because of what was happening at the moment, and often, it wasn’t a moment to cherish. I felt I had lost my place in line and had to go back for another number further down the list. If you have ever applied for or renewed your driver’s license, you’ll understand the following analogy.

The first time I went to renew my driver’s license at our current location, I didn’t notice the little box on the wall as I entered the crowded room. All I saw was a room full of unfamiliar faces, crying babies, and whining children. (Bless those sweet parents who had to bring their children with them.) It took a few folks entering after me for me to realize they were walking straight to a little box on the wall that held rectangular numbered strips. I didn’t know I was supposed to have taken a number; there wasn’t a sign near the box that stated Please Take a Number. I walked over, pulled a number, and waited my turn.

Someone would announce the next number being served over a speaker, but because of the poor quality of the sound system, chatter, and children being children, I found it difficult to understand the speaker. I would periodically check the little box of numbers to see when my turn was coming. I didn’t want to miss my turn and have to start over.

On the flip side of waiting to be served, have you experienced as I have waiting your turn with number clutched in hand? Or maybe you arrived for an appointment and registered your name on a list and then it happens—someone seemingly special enters the room, walks straight to the receptionist’s desk, is greeted by a friendly smile and kind words, and is ushered directly to the meeting room? That person had no number, no name on a list, no waiting. I thought, That’s just not fair.

Here’s another example. As you wait your turn, you notice people arriving after you are being called, and that’s not fair either. Have you ever been overlooked or forgotten on the list you signed or with the number you held? Sometimes, the list or number in question is not literal but figurative—but it’s just as real.

Why should unfairness surprise us? Jesus taught His disciples that in this world, life would at times be unfair, difficult, and painful. Well, now my secret’s out. I don’t like being treated unfairly or taken advantage of, and I don’t like others being treated that way. I’m pretty certain Jesus—though fully God, He was also fully man—wasn’t fond of being mistreated and taken advantage of.

I Sometimes Put God on Hold

As Jesus walked this earth, He was handed a number or put on a waiting list countless times. That still happens today to people, and at times, that someone is I with number in hand. Yes, I sometimes put God on hold by handing Him an unseen number or placing Him on an invisible waiting list. So why would I be surprised or disturbed when that happens to me?

In this life as children of God, we will be overlooked, forgotten, taken advantage of, and put on hold or on waiting lists. We will face trials and hardships, but Jesus gives us a word of encouragement: These things I have spoken unto you, that in Me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world (John 16:33). What a promise. Thank You, Lord!

At first, I seldom gave much attention to those pop-up thoughts of Take a Number, Please as they came and went sometimes in just a matter of seconds. Months and even years would pass, and then there they were again. During the last two weeks of my study on the Hebrew pilgrimage out of Egypt, thoughts of the book reappeared. However, that time, my thoughts were different; they weren’t just pop-up thoughts that came and went. That time, they stayed a while and even camped out. I knew beyond any doubt that was God pressing my spirit to write that book.

Daughter, sister, child of God, friend, fiancée, wife, mother, homemaker, MaMom (my name as a grandmother), secretary, teacher—those are some of the names that have defined me for almost seventy years. But author? Never. I knew I was not one. I had no desire to write a book.

But there I was with my laptop open typing away topics for a book and paragraph after paragraph to fill in the topics. By faith, I was stepping out and literally typing into unfamiliar territory. As a new page turned in my life, a new chapter began. God had set before me this adventurous and very challenging project, Take a Number, Please.

After a couple of days of typing, being totally unfamiliar with writing a book, I wondered how many words or pages constituted an average book. I even considered an Internet search on the matter. But gently yet very emphatically, God informed my spirit not to be concerned about the size or content of this book. Since He was the Author, I needed only to type what He impressed on my heart. God then reminded me of what happened when King David desired to take a census of his people to discover how many men, particularly fighting men, he had in the land. God instructed him not to number the people but just to trust Him. King David disregarded God’s command and had the people numbered; the price of his disobedience was the death of 70,000 men (2 Samuel 24).

It was difficult at times to keep the size of this manuscript out of my thoughts, but I did my best. I must admit, however, that the thought did sneak up from time to time. I prayed, Lord, help me to trust You completely! No matter the size, I know it will be just right. I typed away and stood in awe of my mighty God’s handiwork.

In my peripheral vision, I noticed the automatic counter of pages and words in the corner of my screen as I typed. Who would have thought I had so many words in me just waiting to express themselves in print not to mention in a manuscript? Glory to You, Father, for Your grace and assistance.

CHAPTER 2

Skipping and Twirling

T here’s something positive to be said about small towns especially by a young girl whose family relocated often. Being the new kid in town who was adjusting to a new school and a new church family could be very difficult, but in smaller towns, it was much easier to become acquainted with all the new faces. The most difficult challenge was finding a buddy to enjoy spending time with.

My dad was an oilfield worker, so I faced this challenge over and over—here for a while and then on to a new town. When I was eleven, my best friend of four years moved away. I missed her very much, but that was just the way life was for our family.

Another advantage of small-town living for a young teenager is transportation—safely riding a bike or walking. Those walks to and from school each day were so memorable; I learned to appreciate even more the beauty of God’s creation. The trees swaying in the wind seemed to be waving in appreciation at their Creator. I saw sun glistening on the early morning dew and beautiful clouds of various shapes, sizes, and shades of color from cottony white to dark blue and gray. I felt the breeze on my face and enjoyed magnificent colors everywhere. I heard birds singing and saw flowers in all their glory—all reminders of my awesome God. He could have created everything monochrome or even black and white, but He chose the most vivid, living colors. What a God!

Some days on those walks to school, my thoughts and the sight of my Creator’s handiwork prompted me to skip and sometimes even twirl around in delight as I sang praises to Him. Though that wasn’t a daily occurrence, I suppose some people driving by wondered what in the world was going on with me. However, no matter if people were watching or what they thought, I sang, skipped, and spun around as the Spirit of God moved me. I could not contain my joy and my appreciation and love for God and His creative work; it had to come out.

As a young girl, I enjoyed spending time alone. Looking back, I realize I was never really alone or without a friend. My Friend was and still is always with me. I have never been alone. When I was young, every time our family relocated, Jesus was with me. He had become my very best Friend.

Oh to be like that young girl again ever aware of God’s presence and expressing unfettered appreciation to Him for who He says He is. Wait—what would people think? Why should I care? If God moves us to sing praise to Him, lift our hands, or skip and twirl, we should abandon all and just do it for His honor and glory.

At that time, I had no idea what God had in store for me, the plan He had prepared for my life before anything was ever created. He knew the numbers He would hand me, the numbers I would need to pull, the numbers that would be tossed at me, all the lists I would sign my name on to wait my turn; and then ultimately, my need to wait on Him.

CHAPTER 3

Just Sitting in a Pew

T his service was not just another evening of revival. Family, friends, and a few visitors were there. The songs had been sung, the guest speaker had finished his message, and as usual, the invitation was given.

There had been other nights of invitation, but this invitation night was different—very different. Was it something the speaker had said? Was it simply God’s timing? Perhaps both?

I was barely sixteen and sitting in a pew alongside a friend in our quaint, little church when I felt a definite tugging at my heart with a distinct call to a special ministry. Having grown up attending Baptist churches, I had witnessed others surrender to the call to become pastors, youth ministers, music ministers, or missionaries, but God didn’t reveal to me what type of service I was being called for.

But my surrender to His call took place right there in that pew, and it didn’t take very long for me to slip from my seat, walk down that short aisle, take my pastor’s hand, and share with him what God was pressing in on me. That was exciting for me, but then nothing happened after that. Absolutely nothing. There was no follow-up by the pastor, no encouragement from my family, Sunday school or discipleship training teacher,