I am currently waiting on answers to approximately 18 prayers.
I’ve been in these monumental moments of transition before, but this one just feels a lot like a root-canal election season when, for better or for worse, we know that eventually it must end and someone has to win. These 18 prayers fit into just about every category critical to a human’s survival: food, shelter, and health.
Now, 18 is a fictional number. The real number is probably more like 118, but I don’t want to overwhelm anyone.
And what do I do while I wait for these magical answers? I refresh my inbox.
Because life, these days, feels like it will sort itself out right before my eyes in my email inbox. Some days, I juggle balls as a rainbow-wigged, red-nosed clown, eagerly awaiting for the balls to fall in exactly the right places. Other days, I am Miley Cyrus swinging on the wrecking ball.
We catapult these questions out into cyberspace, and then we act like IT’S NO BIG DEAL while we wait for these requests to just twirl around in the lala land WWW, leaving us biting cuticles or pacing or counting sheep until the sun comes up.
I can’t possibly complete tasks one through three because right now I can’t even remember how to count to three. I know how to count 1, 2, skip a few when I’ve had a few too many cups of coffee. And I know how to move my eyes away from my inbox for three seconds before they dart back and I must hit refresh just one more time because I COULD HAVE MISSED SOMETHING.
Insanity may be lurking just around the riverbend, but I have this slight inkling that I’m not alone in this waiting game when we google how to braid our hair like Pocahontas, or just anything really that whisks our minds away from the reality that here we are, still waiting.
So instead of hitting refresh 17 more times in a minute, I will go to the gym. I will ignore the fact that I couldn’t sleep because of the whole counting sheep business, and I will drink coffee like a Gilmore, lace up my shoes, and go stream some Netflix at the gym to tune into my Lorelais who teach me that life’s short so talk fast.
The goal of this post is not to send you, my reader, into shock and ask you to drink my poison to join me in this hamster wheel waiting fiasco. The goal is to give you practical, tangible advice that I’ll disguise as helpful steps for you to follow (when really I would do myself a favor to take my own advice).
WALK AWAY FROM THE INBOX.
That’s right — take a break. Go breathe some fresh air and remember that the sun will come up and go down, regardless of answers plopped and sorted in your inbox.
TRUST IN PROMISES.
If someone says they will do something or get back to you, believe it. Start your day expecting the best of people.
GIVE THANKS FOR THE DEATH OF CARRIER PIGEONS.
I mean, can we even imagine a life of leaving our window open to hope that the carrier pigeon flies on in our room delivering good news?
In these days of waiting, I have also taken on the huge responsibility of watching the new mind-blowing dramedy on NBC called This Is Us. This sounds like a lovely distraction from reality, but really, it’s just another thing to wait for. What is this life where we watch TV shows in real time and we have to wait AN ENTIRE WEEK to find out the next twist in the story?
It’s patience. And it’s practice.
And this practice of patience could potentially save us. If we let it.
Next week’s episode will be even sweeter because of the wait. Life’s next episode, after God sends YES or NO through our email inbox, will be even sweeter after we master the art of waiting for the next twist in our stories.
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