If you know me well, you’re probably aware of how much I hate to wait.
Whether it is waiting in a TSA line in the airport, or for a file to load to my laptop, or in the check out lane at my local grocer, waiting is a frustrating game.
It’s not so much the actual waiting, as it is not knowing when the waiting will end. Will I be able to make it to my flight on time? Is the internet just slow or is it actually down? Are they really training someone new now that I’m in line?
Heaven forbid the wait is at a restaurant. If the queue is longer than 20 minutes, its time to leave. On the occasions that I do wait, I’m sure to make things unpleasant for my family. But really… it is difficult to place my massive appetite and empty stomach into the hands of a hostess who weighs no more than my right leg, all the while being taunted by the aromas and sounds coming from the dining room behind her.
“Is she really seating that other couple — they’ve just walked in?! Are they her friends? Did she forget us or maybe lose our name? On purpose? I should’ve been nicer on the way in.”
Yet waiting is as much a certainty as death and taxes.
I’ve seen a statistic that by the time you live to be 70 years old, you’ll have spent a total of 3 years waiting on something. Like waiting for traffic lights to change, calls placed on hold to be answered, a pot of water to start boiling, or everyone’s favorite — waiting in the DMV line.
Beth and I seem to have been doing an extraordinary amount of waiting these last few months. Mostly in doctors’ offices waiting for tests or at home waiting for the results to be shared. Right now, we’re waiting semi-patiently for confirmation that my brain endovascular embolization has been scheduled. Apparently, I’m not their only patient. Go figure.
To be transparent, it feels like my entire life has been on-hold since the end of April 2022 when this cerebral hemorrhage occurred. Travel: on-hold. Job search: on-hold. Future: on-hold. When will I be able to restart life?
It is clear that at age 57, I still have much to learn. So I’m choosing now to do the tedious work needed to learn the lessons that I’m being taught in this season. Author Lay Leng puts it like this:
“Don’t abort the process. Embrace it. God is in control of the timing. The story goes that a boy snipped off a bit of a cocoon when he perceived that the struggling butterfly needed help to emerge. The butterfly did emerge easily, but it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings. The butterfly’s struggling was nature’s way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings, making it ready for flight. Are you struggling while waiting? Something beautifully strong is emerging from the wait.”
Lay Leng
Yes, I’m still waiting. But rather than wasting it with impatience, I want to use the time to find the beauty in the wait. To learn and grow in the wait. To connect with other humans who are also in the wait. To share the hope that I have in the outcome because of the Creator’s boundless love and care.
Perhaps there is real purpose in the wait. As always, “God knows. Trust.”
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