In all seasons of my life, I have waited, I wait, and I will wait.
My restless heart wanders aimlessly and lands on people’s doorsteps where I never belong. I turn sadness into beauty, signs into full-fledged answers, and prayers into excuses. It has been painful, heartwrenching, and self-destructive. There are really bad days when it consumes me indefinitely. Waiting paralyzes me so that I can spend months unmoving – devoid of hope – because this is all I (want to) know. I become so comforted by my ache, I make a home out of it.
I wait for my husband. I wait through letters unsent, prayers recklessly whispered, efforts wasted, and mistakes consciously made. His absence follows me wherever I go. I mistake him for genuinely good men who remember everything I say and proud boys guised as my ‘savior.’ I wait, to keep up with his kind of (crazy) wonderful, yet we never meet.
I wait to be a mother. I wait for the reassurance of love that constantly needs me. I wait to be held so fiercely, my absence becomes her, his, their very first heartbreak. I wait for late night cuddles and kisses, which trump whatever riches and success the world may offer. I wait for stories to be told through the eyes of someone seeing everything for the first time.
I wait to be enveloped by purpose. I wait for passion to burn in my heart. I wait for dreams that have yet to be realized. I wait to reach a point in my life where I can confidently say I am proud of my work, my self. Yet, I also wait to be selfless, that my energy, my gifts, my words may reach a multitude of others who seek the very same thing I do: meaning.
I wait for the Lord. I wait, that in every season of my life, His hands hold me – though I choose to let go. He continuously redirects my gaze to His path yet my stubborn heart chooses to go astray because my desires are often too strong – they are really weak. His will becomes blurry, and I lose sight of it. I wait for answers I can only find in His might, His compassion, His grace, His salvation. I wait to be delivered from every wretched thing taking the place of the Lord in my life.
I wait for more things I am too scared to say. How long must I wait?
Still, in my waiting, I learn. I learn all these unspeakable things about myself. It scares me, it scares people away. Some stay, some have long gone, and a part of me continues to grieve for them. Slowly, I strip off these parts I’ve learned to love yet will always make me unhappy. In my waiting, I see people, places, things I can selflessly offer myself to, without compromising my best. I pay attention, I am present, I discover, I give, and these I can only do through glorious solitude. I learn to reevaluate my priorities in every season my prayers remain unanswered.
I do deserve delay. I deserve delay because I am finite. I deserve delay because I can only see the convenient, the good, when I was promised the life-changing, the best, the eternal. I deserve delay because there is much work needed to be made in me so that when I do receive the gifts that have yet to come, I can claim them without guilt, without doubt, without fear, and without abandonment.
I deserve delay because there is much I have selfishly harbored and kept only to be left with (more) unnecessary suffering. I have to learn to let go of these things I will not learn from. I deserve delay, more than anything, because I do not know what He is doing in my behalf. I do not know what He is doing with my prayers. I do not know what He is saving me from – a lifetime of mistakes, a self-seeking heart, listless growth. I do not know what He is purifying within me before I can be everything I hope and pray for. The wait becomes a duty I must fulfill. And in my waiting, I learn, I grow, I become. I trust that is enough.