Funny, the word prompt this week is "wait", and I have actually waited until the last day to take this five minute writing challenge! So, wait no longer....here I go....
I'm good at waiting, and then I'm not.
Waiting is ok with me when...
I'm standing in line.
Christmas is coming.
A wonderful book is coming out in a movie.
A fine dining experience will be my reward.
Oh, but these are waiting moments in which I have confidence of the end result.
Overall, in every day life, I'm a patient soul.
But then again, there are those moments of waiting which seem to last forever, and the outcome is anything, but certain.
Waiting in the dark. Now that's a challenge, and it has nothing to do with patience!
Just these brief thoughts (of waiting anxiously) immediately transport me back to my youth. My brother and I frequently traveled by airplane, on stand-by passes, to visit our grandparents out of town. Dad was an airline mechanic.
Each trip was marked by the anxiety of waiting for our names to be called. Our bags were packed. We were dressed in our Sunday best. And we were set to go...but would we get to go?
We waited, and waited, and most of the time our names were called; off we went.
One particular February, we were excited to spend a long weekend playing in the deep snow of Buffalo, New York. At the end of the long weekend, our grandparents packed us up and took us to the airport to wait for our flight home to sunny Florida.
Our names were not called. In fact, most of the flights out of Buffalo had been cancelled. We stayed another night, and the next day tried again. We waited on each available flight for just two seats to be open. Again, our names were not called and we were to wait yet another night.
Looking back now it seems kind of silly. At the time, though, I was just a child and I only wanted to go home. The waiting seemed endless, and I remember feeling despair; wondering if we would ever make it back home to our parents.
If I remember correctly, it was the third day before we finally heard our names called. No more waiting. We hugged our grandparents, waved goodbye, and secured ourselves in our seats - excited. We were going home...the waiting was over...at last!
Sitting in the airport, bags packed and my heart pounding with the desire to return home to mom and dad, I fervently prayed. They were immature prayers of a fearful child, but I believe in those anxious moments I learned to turn to Jesus for help. He met me there, and began the process of teaching me to trust...His timing and not my own.
I think even now, all these years later, in times of waiting in the shadowy uncertain, I pray immature prayers of a fearful child, and Jesus is there. He continues to teach me to trust, to reach for His Hand, and believe He is good...that He is for me and will never leave me.
Sometimes waiting is no big deal. And then sometimes it is.