What if we started living like the most important part was in the waiting? Because it is, you know? It’s in the waiting. All of it. The growing and clipping. The pruning and even the standing tall.
Maybe you are really like me and when you get tired of waiting (12 seconds in) you start talking to everyone in sight trying to hash it out. You get to a point where you have hashed it out so many times and with so many people, you can’t remember who you told what to and how far they know.
Maybe you are praying. Thinking on these things quietly in your heart. Maybe you are so busy with worry you can’t think straight. All you can muster is a “fine” when someone asks about your well-being and a mostly audible grunt when someone asks you a real question.
Are you one of those guys (ahem, my pointer finger is so long and so pointing at my own self here that I might have bruised myself) who rolls up your sleeves. Coughs a little throat clear and says, “I got you. I got this. I can take this one over to handle my self.” Maybe if you planned a little more. Maybe if you sit down and make a plan to plan your plan. Maybe then it would look better from where you sit.
What’s that they say about the eggs? A tasty omelet never once came from eggs that were counted too soon. No one has ever said that. I made it up. Just now, I made that up. And it makes no sense mostly, but then. It kinda does, am I right?*
And here is where we get to choose who we are and how we are going to be. What if we changed our mindset to believe we aren’t in the best place only when we arrive on the other side of this river?
What might start to happen? Maybe we would stop this inevitable cycle that only brings us to our knees anyway (mind you this is on the back end of an immense struggle, maybe a melt down, and definitely a tantrum). We could finally look out at all those distractions and struggles and that long, painful line called “waiting” and it wouldn’t phase us. And you know why? Because in this moment- in this middle- we would look and say, “I trust you. You are always good to me. You have never left me. You will never leave me. And no one. NO ONE can ever take me from you. Not one other has the power to snatch me out of your perfect hand. I trust you. I say have your way and I mean it.”
A little boy I have never met is this very night waiting for a heart to become ready so he can live past this Christmas. This is a very long wait. This line is so heavy it’s unfathomable. I haven’t the words or nearly the understanding to know how to approach a Christmas when your only baby, nine years old, has been told this may be his last Christmas. All he needs is a heart.
How are we not to the end of this line? God, what have you to say for yourself. Because, frankly, I am furious. My heart grieves for my far away friend and his little boy who is learning what it means to wait on God. We get no say in this except to say, “I trust you. You are always good to me. Hold this little boy in your perfect hand, and never let anyone snatch him away. Be gracious as you see fit. I trust you.” I want to mean this.
Please pray for Oscar. He is my friend’s only child, and they need a miracle.
Be Seeing You,