These are some of my favorite weeks of the year... every year. We enjoy the best meal ever on Thanksgiving, lingering over empty plates smeared with remnants of sweet potato soufflé and crumbles of homemade stuffing. Friendsgiving follows, where the celebration of friendship becomes a banner waving over a dinner table arranged with new recipe attempts, sticky fingers, laughter and a long burning candle. The first week of December brings about our annual Christmas cocktail party, where Eric and I invite a ton of people into our cozy home for meatballs, bourbon balls, and spirited punch. Throw in a Bible study brunch and a book club meeting and there you have it - a bundle of holiday gatherings that fuel the body and spirit alike.
This past week, however, has looked quite different. A week full of waiting rooms. In fact, waiting rooms have become a part of every day life, it seems, these past couple months. Chest x-rays, leg x-rays, vaccines, well check ups, asthma diagnosis, chiropractic appointments, ultrasounds, blood work, more blood work... the Heaton household knows waiting rooms. These rooms aren't too pleasant either. There's the person with the plague who is not covering their mouth and sitting right behind my child, the visible smeared snot on the interior glass door that my one year old is touching with his bare hands, the dingy yellow walls that make every single person in the room appear to be stricken with jaundice, and the smell of disinfectant mingled with a sickly sweet cinnamon scented wall plug in is enough to usher in the stomach bug. The anxiety that these rooms bring me, in addition to the reason I am actually waiting in them is usually just a bit too much to bear. And although I try hard to avoid it - I stuff it down deep and I cover it in prayer and hopes and wishes and desperate pleas - the worry is still there, like a gnat buzzing in my ear.
Waiting is one of the harder things to do in this life. We are a Get It Done kind of people these days. We move forward before we realize our feet are moving. We step further into commitment before the word yes has even left our mouths. Going through the motions isn't even a thing anymore. It's just the way we operate. We are like wind up toys, we keep going until our battery starts to diminish, and then we chug a Redbull or a latte with a double shot of espresso or we squeeze in a quick manicure and consider ourselves recharged and ready to go. But, these past couple of weeks I have been forced to wait. My body is clearly communicating that something is wrong. The problem with waiting, for me, is that I am a chronic worrier when it comes to anything health related. When my child with asthma coughs, or one of my boys gets a hive on his face, or my baby runs a fever - I fall into a spiral vortex of fear that whips me around and around until I can't see straight. And right now, I'm scared for myself. Waiting on test results is like being present in a waiting room all the time - it just takes on the appearance of my living room, kitchen and other places I prefer to enjoy with my loves, but instead feel cold, icy and distant as the space around me is filled with uncertainty.
When I think about this time of year, I long for evenings that hold nothing but the presence of those who live in this house, laughter as we all play around the lit tree, with Christmas tunes carrying on in the background, serving as the soundtrack to our night. I dream of a cozy fire, crackling in the dark of our dining room, while the kids are sprawled across sleeping bags with their slippers and pillows and lovies. Maybe we read passages of Scripture that lead us into anticipation of the baby that came to change the world. Maybe we tell stories that we make up on the spot, as we often do - tales of dragons that save the boys from an earthquake, or an alien invasion that require Jack's MacGyver skills and Gabe's bravery to be overcome. Maybe I pull out a bag of flour at 7 pm and ask the kids what I should make with it. Brownies? Cookies? Cinnamon rolls? But spontaneity can find no place to settle in a life that has no waiting room.
Busyness is a murderer of stillness. I think sometimes I search for opportunities to create joy by planning so many things during my week - dates with friends, volunteer opportunities, even family friendly events that the kids are sure to love. But when every minute of the day is planned, I lack the very thing I crave... stillness. And I believe its what God wants from me right now, and though I hate the way I'm being reminded of that, I need to choose to be thankful for it. It's taken me a few very rough days to get to this point. I locked myself in a dark bathroom a few nights ago while my dearest friends celebrated life right outside the door. I couldn't keep the fear from overflowing. Whatever God has planned for me, however, fear isn't a part of it. He doesn't strike us with fear and depression and isolation. That's the enemy's style. And I refuse to give power to anything that God has not sanctioned for my life. So as I press forward, I'm choosing to wait on Him and nothing else.
It's time to jump off the crazy train. Fear be gone! (AND CURSE YOU INTERNET!) All I really want is to settle around the hearth of our home, cozy and calm, engaged and present. I want to anticipate unadulterated joy, the thing that surfaces when we make room for it... the thing that causes our hearts to sing when we've encountered it. We can transform our hearts and homes into waiting rooms. We can set limits on our busyness and create empty space that we can whole-heartedly trust God to fill with His spirit. Let's take Ozzy off the playlist, and replace the noise pollution that has completely derailed us - with stillness. Living my life in continual anticipation of God's goodness and blessings and answered prayers... these things are worth waiting for. And I don't want to miss them.
I wait for the Lord, my soul 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
During this season of waiting, whether you are waiting for test results, forgiveness, grace, healing, recognition, that bonus, understanding, wisdom, peace... know that the nights of waiting can be long and tiresome. Waiting isn't easy sometimes, BUT salvation comes in the morning. Our God never fails, nor does He sleep. He is with us in the trenches of the hardest seasons, and He's there to welcome us in the dawn where His mercies are new every morning. Let us wait upon HIM now - with great anticipation of what is to come - more than watchmen wait for the morning.
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