Do You Like to Wait?

Last Updated on March 20, 2018

Do you like to wait? What goes through your mind when you pick the grocery line that appears the shortest then watch ten other people speed past you in the other lanes? How about when you find yourself on the only traffic-jammed road? While nature is calling?

Yes, I am a knuckle-gripping, teeth-grinding waiter. Sure, I can handle the easy things. Wait, no I can’t. I don’t like waiting. And waiting on the little things, like a cappuccino, is hard enough, but what about the big things?

A friend recently lost his job. I say recently, but it was almost a year ago. I, along with many others, started praying for his situation. I expected God to move and get him another job immediately. God did grant him another job, but it took almost a year. It was a long time of waiting for me. I can’t imagine how he felt!

Today, though, I find myself waiting on a big thing. When hubby announced we were moving, I wasn’t exactly thrilled. First, I didn’t want to leave the friends I had made—which is always painful for me. Second, I knew how much work lay in store for me. I had done this before. (And nearly had a nervous breakdown after the last time.)

The few weeks after The Announcement were emotionally and physically draining. We packed up most of our belongings in order to stage the house, just as we had done last time. (With our sweet Rachel’s habit of rearranging things to suit her needs, I thought this was the best course.) Plus, it makes the house look bigger and cleaning is much easier.

My mistake, however, was expecting things to go as they had the last time we moved. Yes, it was stressful, but our staged home sold in less than two weeks. Since I was a self-proclaimed house-selling pro, I expected this house to sell even faster and we would be on our merry way.

Hmm. Humble pie does not taste good. I feel like a disgruntled child sitting in a corner with a scowl on my face because I didn’t get my way. I asked God to sell my house. I not only asked, I begged, pleaded, asked other people to ask, and then I pleaded some more. PLEASE! And … nothing. I’m still waiting.

Becoming mature is what other people should be doing, right? Apparently not. It seems I am growing in character again. I still feel petulant about the whole ordeal, but I must remember that a loving parent chastens those he loves. Not that this is chastisement, but if the Lord didn’t love me so much, He wouldn’t be that interested in my character.

And so, my friends, enjoy your cappuccinos—however fast they arrive. I pray your hearts to be light and that the love of the Father holds you tight in the long lines.