I have waited sitting down; I have waited standing still; I have waited by the silent phone.
I have waited for my children to be born, so I could see their sweet, squashed faces and know for certain I am forever changed.
I have waited for grumpy teenagers outside parties on dull driveways in parked minivans.
I have waited for the death of my father to release him from the captivity of his crippled, earthly body.
I have waited in crowded airport lounges along with other travelers. All with our minds in far away places.
I have waited for results of tests that would change my life.
I have waited at crossroads looking for a map or a signpost and realizing there is none.
I have waited for documents that would give me and my family freedom.
I have waited for people’s hearts to thaw and melt and to drip to me their forgiveness.
I have waited for dreams to fly that had been tethered to the land by disappointment.
I have waited alone and together.
I have waited in the small spaces of my heart, and I have waited with all my heart. Every time it makes me think waiting is a skill that is both a discipline and an emotion, so closely knitted together they are one.