Devotion 344 - waiting

He had no idea.

He had no idea what that picture meant.  The one he texted just because it was a pretty little porch, with a pretty little old timey chair.

Then he had our baby climb in that chair so she could smile at me at work.  I smiled back at her into the phone even though she couldn’t see me.

That’s what daddy's do, they bring the beauty of their children to life.  Ava talks on her imaginary phones absolutely all the time, sure that the world can see every sparkle in her eye and every word she utters.  Ava seemingly walks with the center of the universe by her side.  As if her world revolves around her and her Jesus. 

When is it that we forget that we do?  The Center and the Sovereign of the entire universe walks with us.

I looked at that little photo all day.  It took me back.  My Ava sitting on a porch.  Some forty years ago, it was my Grandma.  There are certain images that simply grab one’s heart. We drove up to the house. 

I could see her from way down the lane.  My Grandma.  I was only five, but there she sat in her old metal chair with her dearest neighbor lady.  She was waiting.

It seemed like life stood still until we got there.  Her youngest son with his little family.  I saw her smile, her arms wide open waiting.  Grandpa had already gone on to glory.  I could remember his face, but that was all.  I had missed his spirit.  It was that trip I got to know her.

It was that trip; the last time I would see her this side of glory. It seemed as if she had waited just for me.  She hugged me tight and kissed me too.  We walked inside.  The memories are dim of the house, and the food, the decorating and the yard.  

I just remember her.  I remember her pulling out the sofa that we would sleep on.  To my little eyes, it seemed a royal bed in a fairy tale castle.  It seemed she had nothing but time to talk with me and an abundance of moments to play with me.   She laughed  hearty; it was a full, warm, embracing  laugh.  I am sure she had a meal to prepare and tea to ice, but I didn’t know it.  She was there, waiting for me.

I looked at my daughter.  Her last great adventure before kindergarten begins.  Sitting and taking in life, waiting for the next adventure.

When is it that waiting becomes the enemy and time becomes something we run out of seemingly every day?

Since my daughter could string words together she asks with a relentless passion every single evening, “What do we do after night night?”   She listens as if our answer is the sweetest of nectar.  It is extraordinary how she breathes in life and exhales joy. I want to be more like her.

I want to learn to wait.

I want to have anticipation not just for good, but for what God has, believing drafted by Him, it, what ever IT is, is good.

I want to live like every morning is Christmas unwrapping not just what I am grateful for, but the letters He writes me to teach me patience, to show me how to love my enemies and to remind me to hold tight to the treasures of heaven.

I want to stop trying to figure things out as if my design is somehow smarter or better than His.

I want to sit on this porch of life and wait. 

I have never accomplished anything in a hurry and worse, my beloveds miss my arms and my heart stretching out for them because I was simply too busy inside.  I left the porch.

I am inside. 

I maybe inside my house, my office, or perhaps just inside my head, solving the problems of tomorrow, or reflecting on the disasters of yesterday.

 I forget to wait.

Waiting – my hands are free, my heart even freer.

I submit my control on time, and I forego my grasp on the future.

I see where my Father leads and my hands cup wide to embrace what He has for me.

I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living! Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD!

Psalms 27:13-14