waiting

To wait isn’t exactly something that comes second nature to us. At least, we’re conditioned to think so. We are far more likely to find a way to multitask and fill in the time, or complain about it, than we are to simply wait and be present in the space we find ourselves. Or is that just me?

I think back to taking a teetering toddler for a walk, or a curious three or four year old. Even my now-six year old for that matter… no stone is left unturned, their eyes, toes and fingers drawn to all manner of delightful things and so many reasons to stop, look, and dawdle along the way.

Consider the type of waiting that this pandemic – and for many countries, the resulting lockdown – has brought. At the forefront of a worldwide crisis, our commitment to safety has been to sit at home, and wait. To wait and find out how and where the virus might spread within our borders. To wait until it’s deemed ‘safe’ to again see and hug family and friends. To wait, while new alert level protocols roll out, and we see the effects they have on our population. To wait.

But we’re no longer like that child, who spots a wriggling caterpillar on the footpath, and leans in close, marvelling at how it got there and its ingenious, squirming, many-legged design, and lets the world stop for a moment while we wait. Or are we? Has this particular season caused you to stop, to pause, to wonder and marvel a little bit more at what, until now, we’ve accepted unblinkingly as the norm?

We get to marvel at what’s around us. At the birds outside our lounge room windows, the clear skies above the cityscape below, the colours of the falling leaves in the trees, flowers of glorious colour and gardens setting up for the winter. It’s usually chilly here at this time of year, but the weather has been fairly mild and our family has had some stunningly glorious days as we’ve waited.

Last week, for the first time since the end of March, we visited with friends who also understood that wait so very well. And oh, how worth the wait that was! It was a specially chosen playdate to celebrate Miss 10’s birthday (I still can’t believe she’s reached double digits already) and the charm and delight it brought to her was mesmerising. Isn’t it amazing how the longer we wait, the more precious something often seems when it finally comes to fruition?

You may recall that my little sister’s wedding happened just over a month ago, and how thrilled I was that they could make it happen, even within the tremendous limitations of Level 3. Attending via video link was special, but ever since I’ve been looking forward to that hug. So much waiting! Well, yesterday that day finally came, and what a hug it was. An extra special birthday blessing, as it turned out. And, while none of us may have chosen any part of this particular wait, I have to say, it was worth it. I don’t think I’ll ever take a hug for granted again! (Isn’t it interesting that we very rarely realise what we take for granted, or consider to be the ‘norm,’ until it’s taken away from us?)

So, this begs the question, can I actually say that I’m thankful for waiting, in and of itself? Well, to be fair, I’m still working on that. I can be (and am) thankful for the growth that comes through the waiting, for the results of the waiting, and for the deepened connections that this particular wait has developed within my own family.

I’m taking the time, as I wait, to look and see the beauty in that wriggling, writhing caterpillar on the footpath, knowing that its journey will eventually result in a the fluttering wings of a beautiful butterfly. I may not look at it with the eyes of a child any more, but I can apply that childlike wonder and what I’ve learned in my life so far, to the waiting that I encounter, as it comes. I’m thankful for the jewels that waiting has revealed to me as I’ve taken the time to notice and uncover them.

And I’m praying that I might one day truly be able to view waiting, itself, as a gift. That’s my prayer for you, today, also. Whatever it is that you might be waiting for, may you be able recognise the value of the journey it carries you on, as you do.

Yesterday’s wait brought me a beautiful bouquet of flowers. This morning they almost seemed to smile at me from their spot on the kitchen table, like a ray of sunshine on a rather grey day. Kind of fitting, isn’t it?

Kristy x

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