As a child, the thought of waiting was unbearable. My little mind could understand nothing but immediate self-gratification. Any pause on my desire was unthinkable. Cruel.
I learned to make up for his delays by doing things on my own. Why wait for dad’s wallet to open up when I have my own? And it buys what I want more quickly?
Only to come home and find a wrapped gift on my bed… just the thing I’d been pining away for… and bought on my own.
If only I’d waited…
I noticed how often his heart was to bless me with my heart’s wishes… but in his time, in his way… small surprises of delight in his daughter. And I was good at ruining it.
So I decided to try this whole “waiting” thing out.
I waited until he approved of the man I’d marry. And I’m so glad I did… no broken hearts, no ex-relationships to haunt me, minimal regrets.
Then came a halt to my life abroad. A time of waiting. Rooting. Things I’d never done.
My dad has raised me to love people, cultures, languages, new experiences.
Then told me I couldn’t do any of it… for an indefinite amount of time (which turned into eight years!)
I was obedient… albeit depressed and grieved… and took to figuring out this whole “rooting” thing.
One of the best things I’ve ever done.
Because he asked me to wait.
And I did.
Now here I am.
Living in Germany… the life I’ve been waiting for.
And oddly enough, there are still things he has me waiting for.
He told me he’d buy us the perfect car when the time was right.
He’s never ever lied to me, so I know He will.
And now we’ve been here two and a half months.
It’s pouring rain and I have two toddlers to take on a fifteen minute walk… in the downpour. Twice.
I’m tired of waiting.
I toy with the idea of getting it myself. Shop around. Count the change in my wallet.
And keep waiting.
Because by now I know the gift is just around the corner. And there is so much I can learn from this moment.
- The generosity of car-endowed friends and the rides they offer.
- The clean, fresh air detoxifying my lungs.
- Watching him provide the things that only a car can get us… in other ways.
- The time with my children… hopping through puddles, peeking down at creepy crawly worms, conversations about life.
- Rainboots, umbrellas, and rain coats… all things my dad has given us while we wait for our car.
- The exercise we get walking up and down all of Kandern’s hills, together.
- The mental map of all of Kandern’s back alleys, side roads, and walking bridges… only known by my wandering feet.
- “Hallo”s and “Guten Morgan”s exchanged with the many other walkers in Kandern’s keeping.
- The new gratitude I’ll have for the gift of our vehicle when it’s given… a pleasure not taken for granted. A gift to share.
- My brothers and sisters, near and far, asking dad to help us out, offering him their time and resources to make it happen.
- The pure joy of seeing my daddy respond to my heart, know my needs… and provide.
All things I’d deny myself if I rushed through the moment, submitted to the immediate self-gratification of my childhood, and distrusted my dad.
Who has been so faithful to me… discerning between the wants that would harm me and the wants that would grow me.
While lavishing his abundance all over my life… and the life of my brothers and sisters… each in their own journeys of waiting
For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.