Seasonal Waiting
The expiration dates on the cartons of milk in my parents' fridge read November.
The leaves in the trees outside their house have turned gorgeous shades of crimson and gold and ochre and are falling now, spinning through the air until they land crisply on the cold ground.
My suitcase stares at me from beneath the window, and my son asks me nightly when we are going home.
I have the flu. And so we wait. But it's more than that. This is a season of waiting for me. It's not a passive waiting--I am learning to be faithful in the small things; I am learning to pray--but it is a waiting none-the-less. The Lord has asked me to close my mouth and open my hands and...wait.
It is frustrating for me. I am good at being lazy but I discover that I am not good at waiting. This round of the flu has confirmed that in me. Littles tucked me back in bed this morning with Rolly and Blue Blanket, telling me "good night" and "get better", and I laid in bed and tried to sleep (I really did) but I was mentally twiddling my thumbs and thinking about packing the car or doing a load of laundry or, try not to laugh, mopping my own kitchen floor. Finally, I turned on the lamp, propped myself up in bed, and tried to pray, and I heard again: wait.
I have lists of things that I want to do (some that I've convinced myself I need to do): dreams I want to accomplish, art I want to create, projects I want to set in motion. It's hard for me to remember that these things aren't going anywhere and that, even if they are good things, doing them at the wrong time means I'm doing them for the wrong reasons and doing them for the wrong reasons makes them worthless.
This is where I am right now. This is where I am because when things start happening I want them to be because He is making them happen not because I am. It's time for me to stop striving to fix and to straighten and to perfect. There might be a time for that later, but right now: It's time for me to wait.
The leaves in the trees outside their house have turned gorgeous shades of crimson and gold and ochre and are falling now, spinning through the air until they land crisply on the cold ground.
My suitcase stares at me from beneath the window, and my son asks me nightly when we are going home.
It is frustrating for me. I am good at being lazy but I discover that I am not good at waiting. This round of the flu has confirmed that in me. Littles tucked me back in bed this morning with Rolly and Blue Blanket, telling me "good night" and "get better", and I laid in bed and tried to sleep (I really did) but I was mentally twiddling my thumbs and thinking about packing the car or doing a load of laundry or, try not to laugh, mopping my own kitchen floor. Finally, I turned on the lamp, propped myself up in bed, and tried to pray, and I heard again: wait.
This is where I am right now. This is where I am because when things start happening I want them to be because He is making them happen not because I am. It's time for me to stop striving to fix and to straighten and to perfect. There might be a time for that later, but right now: It's time for me to wait.
Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD!
Psalm 27:14
