hurry up and wait

this is the beginning of my adventures in online journaling/blogging/whatever you want to call it. as some one who has journaled for much of the last 18 years using the primitive tools (also known as pen and paper) handed down to me by my ancestors, the whole idea of blogging seems a little odd to me, but i am ready to embrace change and hopefully discover something new about myself through this electronic medium.

now, to the subject of this post. i have been doing a lot of waiting over the last several weeks...the kind of waiting you don't realize you are experiencing until you stop your normal pace of life long enough to observe that while your life appears to be in motion, in fact many things are in pause mode. first, i was sick for a week. during that time, i did a lot of waiting. waiting for the pain to go away, waiting for a friend to call, waiting for the awful tv shows of the noon-3pm variety to cease, waiting for my antibiotics to work, waiting for my brain to feel like attempting mental activity, waiting.

second, i am in a long journey at the moment toward future mission work in nicaragua with a great organization called Food for the Hungry...a calling i have been drawn to and confirmed in my pursuit of many times over, but only now (3 years since the moment i knew i was called to latin america to serve the poor in the name of Christ) is coming to fruition. and while i have been in a period of what i call "active waiting" (i have been reading books on nicaragua, praying, raising support, etc.), a lot of what happens and when it happens is still not (and never will be) up to me. it's up to God. these lessons in patience and trust are some of the most challenging for me, as a woman who tends to be fiercely independent (to all external observation) but internally craves the security of knowing that the issues and realities of my life are in far more capable hands than my own.

i was taught a new lesson in waiting just recently at a local shelter where folks from new orleans are still living. a sweet, gentle, octogenarian woman with add who was part of the convention center horror three weeks ago told me her story of being transported from place to place, just waiting to be able to get back on the medicine she needed to function normally, waiting to be seen by the right kind of doctor, waiting to be assigned the appropriate caseworker to help her, waiting for news from new orleans, waiting to see if she can move to delaware where many of her friends are now, waiting. and in the meantime, where is she? in a church gymnasium, eating whatever she is given, sleeping in close quarters with 20 other special needs evacuees, appreciative of the smallest gesture of compassion or kindness. while i was there, she told me she wanted to read the paper. i happened to have a copy in my car, and when i offered it to her, she gave me a big hug. how often do i display as much love to others in the midst of my own time of waiting? that's my food for thought today.