Waiting

Action is easier for some than others. It’s pretty much been my go-to standard.

Several weeks ago, I was praying – bantering in my own way. It was the middle of the night and I was wide awake. Questioning. Searching. Wondering. Listening. The Littles were snoozing quietly. It was just me and the world – and Whomever was listening.

And I asked what I thought was a very “simple” question – “What am I supposed to do?”

Normally, I don’t get a nearly verbal response – I won’t spout that I get answered always or frequently. That’s simply not true.

Whether or not this was a “divine message” or not – it certainly resonated with me that evening. Ruefully so, because it countered my usual pattern.

“Wait.” Nothing more. Nothing less. One word that left me momentarily frowning. What kind of an answer was that?

“Is that it?” I asked the ceiling fan. “Is that all?” I’ll admit, I was a little frustrated. After all, shouldn’t a question like that get a detailed, specific response that seems straight out of the annals of history? Not tonight, Rosey. Not tonight.

Radio silence. I asked. I had my answer. Now – it was up to me whether I would listen.

I have tried. It’s a process. It’s still a process, because my busy brain enjoys motion and activity. Waiting seems passive. Reluctant. It isn’t – not really. So, today, as I don my work cloths and responsibilities – I go, but not alone. Not aimless. Not inactive. Waiting.