headed, i fear, toward a most useless place. The Waiting Place. . . NO! that’s not for you! somehow you’ll escape all that waiting and staying. you’ll find the bright places where boom bands are playing.
–dr. seuss, “oh the places you’ll go.”
kieran with my niece, layla. just waiting.
summer is here & i can’t get it out of my head that i should be DOING something. churn up the sunshine, make a crazy hoopla out of the heat. pack the car, head up the highway to a beach. make homemade icecream. shoot off roman candles & light sparklers every day signifying: summer! summer! summer!!!
instead, for the next few weeks, what we’re doing at this house is waiting. no roadtrips. no waterpark. no beach. not much activity at all, actually. sitting & waiting.
waiting for a Baby to come or the house to sell, or the garden to grow or the flowers to smell (my apologies, dr. seuss), all of us here are just. . .waiting.
according to dr. seuss, waiting is a most useless place.
i, however, disagree.
i am a terrible waiter. waiting wastes time. there is so much to DO. &, really: can’t God see this? i mean, i get why we slug through 9 months of pregnancy, fashioning functioning lungs & all. but is it necessary that i have to sit so much? & what about moving to a new house? can’t we just get there, already? aren’t we burning up usable resources in this middle ground?
i don’t understand waiting.
but this waiting, though difficult ( i want to KNOW this child! i want to get ON with packing & moving & setting up house in a new place! let’s go! let’s go! let’s go!!!) is the profitable kind. i don’t understand it, but i know it in my belly.
sometimes waiting is about being.
one thing i’ve culled from all this sitting around, all this semi-bed rest, this serious lack of activity, is that i’m still worthwhile.
it sounds juvenile to say, but in all honesty, i base my worth on what i do. how much i check off a list. how many valid activities i log with my children in a given week.
this waiting is focusing me on being. being who i am without the churning, the hoopla, the agenda. it’s difficult, but i’m just beginning to understand how important this is.
the other thing i’ve culled is that when i slow down, when i just am, my eyes quietly come into clearer focus. i get more intentional, & i edit to write a better story. (anybody else see a theme here? God’s like that.)
while i’m waiting, i see that little boy over there, the one who’s about to lose his baby status? he needs extra backrubs at bedtime, extra puzzle time with mama. he needs to bulk up a bit, to fill his bitty 3-year-old tank to buoy him through the giganto transition on his plate.
i see our surroundings & take initiative to sift, downsizing so that i have less to manage & more time to, well, you guessed it. . . be.
& while i’m waiting, i see myself. how am i wired, on the dawn of mother-as-four? what do i need to be the healthiest, strongest mama/wife/friend/human being that i can be?
it’s startling, really, how amazing this waiting place is. for me. for my family. for me + God.
& that, dear seuss, is a most worthwhile place.