waiting

 

Waiting. Feels like the space in between my exhale and my inhale. 

The stale remnants of air that stand in my lungs waiting for the exchange of old for new.

I am waiting to inhale. 

Waiting for something new.

Ever been there?

Not the waiting-for-a-red-light kind of waiting.

Or the waiting-for-your-child-to-please-hurry-up-and-tie-her-shoe sort of waiting.

Or the general kind of, when-will-the-waiter-bring-us-our-food?

Not that kind of waiting.

 The kind of waiting that sits you in the dark for a timeless moment.

Land is nowhere in sight. You seem to be adrift on a tiny raft in the middle of the sea and the coastguard, or a shark, you do not know which, could make its appearance any moment...any moment...any moment. The kind of waiting that leaves your stomach punched, like I said, for that inhale of something new.

That kind of waiting. Ever been there?

 I am learning that waiting creates tension in this very weak muscle of faith of mine.

I know it is weak because I am reminded of it when I am gifted the opportunity to wait.
(thankyouverymuch)

The tension forces a little self reflection...like how very impatient I am.

How sometimes I just cannot hold all of the answers.

But oddly, perhaps purposefully, waiting is moving me to stillness.

A slow release of all that toddler-like kinetic energy.

Of all that noise in my head and unrest in my heart.
Releasing the venom of anxiety from my veins.

Because when I am still I discover another Person by my side, sitting with me,
whispering to me that I never alone, never forgotten.
That His timing is not bound by my earthly expectations or rushed by my impatience.
It is enough that I am not waiting alone.

This is the gift that waiting brings. Now I know.