“Patience is not sitting and waiting,
it is foreseeing.
It is looking at the thorn and seeing the rose,
looking at the night and seeing the day.” Rumi

I was thinking about how much time I’ve spent waiting for people and things in my lifetime.

Just now, the original Angel Boy (son) said, “Wait a minute, I told you I’d walk with you at noon.”

“OK”, I said, “I’ll wait.”

While I’m waiting for him, I decided to be productive and jot down my thoughts.

I’ve waited at music and gymnastics lessons, I’ve waited to pick up kids after school, I’ve waited for doctor’s appointments, I’ve waited for cars to be repaired, I’ve waited for loved ones to come home, I’ve spent countless hours waiting at the airport.

I guess you could say that waiting is a big part of being a mom. We wait for them to lift their heads, to crawl, to walk, to speak, to read, to grow. It’s all about waiting.

I can’t even do the math to figure out how many years I’ve spent waiting, in limbo, for anyone and everyone.

One would think that all that waiting indicates a high level of patience, but I’m not a patient person; I just surrender and radically accept the action of waiting because there’s nothing else to do.

Most of the time I bring a book and read to make the time go faster, and that helps me feel like I’m DOING SOMETHING.

I’m still waiting because Angel Boy’s idea of a “minute” is not the same as mine…I told him I was leaving without him and again, he told me to wait.

So I’m waiting.

What happens next in this scenario is that he’ll find me and say, “Hurry up! I thought you were ready. Let’s GO!” As if I haven’t been waiting for him all this time. LOL.

I literally just said, “I’ve been waiting my whole life to see the northern lights.”

And I hope I do. Hope springs eternal, and that’s exactly what waiting feels like; an eternity.