In the Waiting

One of the Dr. Suess books that the boys would have me read again and again is Oh, the Places You'll Go. One part reads:

Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting. Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting.

(I don't think I've ever personally waited for a pair of pants, but I'm sure someone has. I am, on the other hand, waiting for the day I can think a full thought, or the day I don't have to explain why I've said "no", or the night I can sleep all the way through and not have to get up.)

I have had friends who waited to have a baby, and it never happened. I've had family who was just waiting for the money to come in, the job to be perfect, the big breakthrough.

Waiting isn't always fun.

Waiting isn't always peaceful.

Waiting isn't always calm.

Waiting almost always feels too long in the midst of it.

In the past few weeks, I have been waiting for so much. We need our house to sell. Sweet husband needs a job. We need peaceful closure at our jobs. We need to move on.

And I don't want to rush, because I'll miss the now. I'll miss the spring turning to summer and the movie nights on the couch and what she's really saying to me because I'm so worried about then that I don't see now.

And I stop hearing, and my one focus is on what might happen, when it might happen. And I've grown up with the knowledge that since the birds don't worry, neither should I.

But it's hard.

And so in this place, with all it's waiting and staying, I do my best to fix my eyes on today and the blessings it hold.