The many kinds of waiting, they bend my mind.
- for transport
- for word
- for dough to rise
- to speak
- to leave
- to arrive
- in line
- in labor
- in the waiting room
- with expectation
- with impatience
- with hope
In Advent all these waitings merge. In this Great Wait, I am submerged. I am emptied. I am helpless.
With a little luck, I am transformed.
Many people I know who wait out this Advent with the hope of heaven, they don’t like that word – luck. They feel it does not give Providence proper attribution. Those not waiting say that luck is a crutch, does not take responsibility.
Here’s what I believe: Luck is the wink in the eye of Grace.
While I wait I walk and my toes get cold. The crunch of snow under my boots is answered by the hum of a jet overhead. Sun suddenly breaks through, snow shines.
While I wait I type and my fingers get cold. A tortoise shell cat, old and unconcerned, crawls uninvited into my lap.
While I wait I shop and my heart grows cold. But the boy reminds me to get an extra jar of peanut butter for the food pantry.
The cold of the waiting is not dispelled. But it is changed. Somehow.