Wait

I lost my patience.

I lost my hope.

I lost my my vision.

Deep down, I know that more is going on than I can see. Of course, I am so shortsighted I cannot see what part I'm playing, what role I've assumed in this chapter. This, after all, is not my story.

But I feel attacked.

Like the "pause" button has been pressed on my life, while everyone else is out there living great stories. I'm sitting in the turning lane with a red arrow, while the rest of traffic whizzes by. I'm ready. But You say, "not yet". (Maybe literally, "you can go. But you're going to get hit. You should probably just wait. Like I told you to.")

I want to do something.

I want to go somewhere.

I have been asking, and I'm getting weird, ambiguous answers.

I don't like ambiguity, so I'm not doing anything.

I'm not going anywhere.

The enemy is attacking me in my life of habit.

Targeting me with the mundane.

In my routine, in my hectic routine, I can't even hear anymore.

Or.

At least I thought I couldn't.

This is not a season of "doing". As much as I want it to be. This is a season of equipping and growing and recharging and redirecting. Because it is a different season, God is speaking differently. It's taken me so long to recognize this. In my frustration, I am talking over Him.

But He's speaking to me.

In my dreams. In His word. In His lack of words.

Reminding me of a prayer my sister prayed over me a long time ago. That I would know the Father well enough to be able to follow Him... even when I couldn't hear. Even when I cannot see.

He's hiding His face from me.

"Come. Follow."

What I realize, as well, is that He may be whispering. And my life is just so freaking crazy that it drowns Him out.

Where can I find quiet? Where can I find stillness? Make my heart that place, Lord. When the world outside is in chaos, quiet me with Your love. Be Thou my vision...

In this waiting, make me strong. In this waiting, transform me. In this waiting, prepare me. In this waiting, teach me.

It's all so unclear. The next step... the purpose... the plan. I'm asking for wisdom and discernment and boldness.

And You're asking me to be here.

To sit still. To just wait.

Will You wait with me? Sit down next to me, here at this train station. Let's talk. Spend some time together - maybe over a cup of coffee. I just don't want to wait by myself. I'd really like to spend this time with You...

One day I know, You will open the door. And it may be slow. Or it may be quick.

I will be swept away. Back into a flow of things... back into a stream of "doing" and "going".

But not until I learn how to "be".

Here I am.

Being.