Thinking about waiting a lot these days.
Waiting...with hope. With expectation. With bated breath.
Sometimes it feels more like, waiting...with hope? With expectation? With bated breath?
And sometimes waiting with bated breath and little hope. And sometimes with diehard hope but uncertain expectation. And sometimes surprising myself with hope. And sometimes feeling guilty for not having enough. And sometimes not even really knowing what I'm waiting for.
And it's a funny thing, this waiting.
Because it seems like it wouldn't be so bad, if I just knew how long it would last.
But alas. Despite the many, many remarkable achievements of our time, we cannot outmaneuver waiting.
And oh, how dreadful it can be! How many tears, how many stomachs churn, how many sleepless nights, how many, many what ifs...?, how many broken hearts.
And do you know, there is a part of me that wants to stop there and shake my first and say SEE?! Do you see, world? Do you see, God? Do you see, everyone? DO YOU SEE what we all must go through at one time or another? Who is responsible for this mess?!
Somebody, DO SOMETHING!!!
But then...
There is this tiny voice. This whisper of a thing. And it's both a comfort and an annoyance. Inexplicable and profound. Maddening and anchoring.
And it doesn't offer neat answers or judgements or explain away the hard truths.
But somehow, against all odds, it flickers on.
