Waiting. Aargh. An image of passively sitting at the side of the road that is the journey I am on. Stubborness.
Is this where I am these days? Am I dreading every mundane, repetitive day? This is not living, not really.
Resonating with Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts. I want to live, I want to journey forward and waiting is a part of that journey–it makes up a part of the road of my journey.
I’m not sure how far it stretches but I wish to be through this part of the road. Transition complete.
But then won’t there be something else I must walk through a waiting stretch of road for?
Too often I’ve envisioned the waiting as getting off the road entirely. But the side of the road is really for resting. And that is not where I’m being called to these days.
The waiting stretches are longer than I want them to be. And quite often they’re boring. The scenery along the way is grey and mundane, much like how I feel this blah, wintery day.
An ongoing sense of, “is this all?” as I walk along this stretch. A complaining of “woe is me, look what I have to pass through.” One step after another. Uphill, downhill, and always cloudy.
Life would be much better if there were no waiting, I think. Yet instant gratification births ingratitude.
Amidst a cloud break the sun shoots beams of light onto the road ahead. The veil is lifted for an instance and I catch a glimpse of beyond the waiting.
Drudgery is a great danger to the journeying pilgrim. What does waiting look like on your journey?