The topic is patience, but the question is about waiting. These are things that go together. I sit in the pew, listening to the thoughts that are expressed.

Waiting is hard.

It’s hard not to worry while I’m waiting.

Waiting is about trusting.

Waiting is about growth.

The bible tells us to wait on God.

Waiting on God is hard.

It’s hard not to worry while I’m waiting on God.

I think about this, after. About the waiting, and I think that waiting, for me, is not that hard. Not since I’ve learned to rest.

Waiting used to be about wishing. About the next thing and getting there. About enduring and minimizing and moving on. I’ve learned some things over the years, though.

Waiting is sitting at the pool – visiting, reading, writing – while the children splash. Waiting is sitting in the truck – reading, writing, praying, thinking – while the husband hunts. Waiting is nine months of wondering, praying, puking, and praising. Waiting is time I spend on myself while other things are going on. Waiting is quiet, slow, thoughtful. Not always, but often.

Waiting on God is the same, I think. It is time spent on the inside while the outside is out of my control. And isn’t this, well, all the time?

Waiting on God in the crisis is easier, maybe, if I’ve practiced my waiting in the small, daily messes. If I’ve sabbathed and quieted and purposefully rested from time to time.

The small rest, the practice of it, lets me wait more easily when the big stuff happens.

Maybe this is patience?

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