It's 1 am and the four people I live with are sound asleep. And I'm awake. Vacillating between watching reruns of The Real Housewives of Atlanta and unloading the dishwasher, my tiny dog the only other creature awake, nervously pacing around behind me. But eventually all the dishes are put away and the tv turns to infomercials for no-money-down real estate and I find myself sitting here staring at the glow of my monitor. I've checked my email, I've checked my Facebook, I've even checked my (very dusty) Myspace profile and through sheer process of social networking elimination, I've landed here.
Normally when I post a blog I only do so after a topic or situation has been consistently on my mind for a length of time, or only after I've told and retold a story so many times that my friends and family are sick of hearing it, or if a moment in my life is so special, so perfect, so pertinent, or just so darn funny that I absolutely must share it. This is not any of those things, those times. I am unarmed. I am without pre-thought-out humor, wit, emotion, or clever one-liners. I have no occasion, no event. I am truly just sitting here waiting. So I apologize in advance for those of you who read my "mommy blog" and are maybe expecting my typical make-ya-laugh, make-ya-cry style or perhaps you might be expecting another political commentary. I don't think it's about to happen.
I am just sitting here waiting. Not like waiting for the light to change or waiting in traffic. Not like waiting for the server to bring your meal. Not like waiting for your computer to boot, or your car to warm up, or waiting for Friday.
It's not like waiting "with bated breath". I would prefer that. "Waiting with bated breath" implies that you are only waiting for a period of time no longer than you can hold in a breath of air. No longer than the capacity of your lungs, not a second longer than your physical need to inhale. Waiting with bated breath is sitting outside the principal's office, or waiting for the Dr. to read the test results, or waiting to hear your name called when team captains are choosing players. It's waiting for the time to run down in the last seconds of sudden death overtime, it's waiting for an answer when you're down on one knee with a diamond ring in your hand. This is none of those.
This waiting is waiting after your bated breath has been exhaled and you have to go on breathing.
This is waiting for prayer to be answered, yet no answer seems to come. Not an unwanted answer... no answer. This waiting is waiting for provision when your situation seems to have surpassed the "worse" side of the "gone-from-bad-to-worse" scenario. This is the constant waiting that pervades your day-in-day-out life. This is waiting when you fall asleep at night and still waiting when you wake up. Still waiting when you cook dinner. Still waiting when you fold laundry. Still waiting when you drive to soccer practice. And still waiting while you do it all again the next day. Still waiting while you do it all again the next week. Still waiting while you do it all again the next month. Still waiting.
This kind of waiting is like static in the air.... little sparks of nothing that you wish you could pull out of your hair, wrench from your clothes, pluck out of the air and force into something tangible. Like static in the air.... you can feel it all around you but you can't touch it, can't grab a hold of it and make it into something real. Still waiting.
"I wait on the Lord, my whole being waits, and in His Word I put my hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning. More than watchmen wait for the morning." -Psalm 130:5-6