The Waiting Room

In this on-demand, now now now life, it's hard to be still, be patient and just have faith that everything will line up. But maybe that's the point.

The last five plus years of my life, I shifted from hope trumpeting me to caretaker of family. It was a choice I made, no take backs or excuses. Still, I feel it necessary to explain my digital absence from this space . . . aside from a handful of posts that streamed forth on key occasions.

I have been in a waiting room. At first, I didn't know it. I felt called to be a parent, to be a wife, to be a step mother and to be focused exclusively beyond my own thoughts. In doing, I sat down in a comfy chair of self-convinced normalcy and accepted that this is a swap "I had to make."

Bullshit. It's an excuse. I chose the waiting room because it's easier. Being dedicated to others gives me the best alibi for the weight gain (25 pounds give or take), the hyper focus on OCD house cleaning, the epic nutritional debates and rehashing of grocery lists, and the shutting down (nah, denying) of my natural empathy and spiritual gifts.

No more. This waiting room is not a prison—it's a depot. The funny thing about finding yourself in a waiting room is that you have to decide whether or not it will suppress you or concentrate your resolve. Admittedly, I chose the former almost subconsciously. "I can't make time for this passion," or "I would be selfish if I put energy into this endeavor" or even "I am giving enough of myself, and I'm tired."

Man, the last one really stung. The waiting room crème de la cop out. So true. I pleaded with God on many occasions to guide me through perimenopause (yep, that fun life stage), to miraculously heal my body from a litany of concerns, to balance work and life, or to heal my marriage. When really, I needed to be doing something bold, scary and almost dangerous: "God, your will be done and your path be mine. Show me."

The waiting room recently changed from a purgatory of sorts into a staging ground. That, my friends, was a key shift. No more of the life, world or circumstances first but so much more of the guiding light of my talents and gifts. Yes, I need to wait. Suck it up, girl. After all, we tell our kids this all the time, yet we rail against it with a wanton disregard for the authority of the universe, for heaven's sake. Less of my desires and more of me showing up to learn, to be humbled, to reflect on my calling and to be open to His voice. The waiting room became an unexpected gift.

What I declare, from the waiting room, is that mindset is crucial. Wholeheartedly, forever and with all my being, I choose hope. Hope that only comes with knowing that I can't save myself, I can't be everything and I can't have it all on my terms. What I can do is wait, and be thankful when I'm called up. Like now.

It's time to dance in the waiting room with wild abandon and embrace what's surely to come. 

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