I can’t even begin to count the conversations I’ve had with my mother about “waiting.” How many tears have I shed because I had to “wait” on something? An embarrassing amount is the best I can surmise. Especially when I was younger, having to wait for something or someone seemed akin to torture. As I think about it, that feeling of torturous waiting isn’t really exclusive to my younger years. I am pretty sure at the age of 28 I had a pretty intense emotional breakdown stemming from having to wait on something… which may or may not have been an item I purchased online that was backordered. (I was in dire need of perspective.)
Thank goodness even the poet Ralph Waldo Emerson wondered, “How much of human life is lost in waiting?” Amen, Mr. Emerson! It always makes me feel better to find a shared human experience, especially when it’s someone as intellectual as one of the literature greats.
It wasn’t until 6 months ago that I fully understood that waiting could be sweet.
On the day Matt and I announced that we were expecting a baby in July, a dear friend at work rushed in and gave me a beautiful prayer called “The Prayer for Expectant Mothers.” Two of the lines read, “You have granted me the immense gift of a tiny little life, living in my own life. In this sweet waiting, help me to live in a constant attitude of self-surrender to your will.”
It took reading that first line to realize that in this sweet waiting, a tiny life would be living in my own life. How extraordinary.
Life certainly did not stop when I learned I was pregnant and I was once again in awe of the strength God has sown within us. Women do amazing things while a tiny life lives within their own. (Please add that descriptor next to our names in the history book: “She did all of this while a life grew inside of her.”)
To that end, I was reminded just this week that women can carry out incredible feats while a 9 month old child sweetly crawls in and out of her feet.
For the first time, waiting was sweet. For in this waiting, a tiny life would be living in my own life.
It was sweet to go to work knowing that his tiny life was going along with me!
It was sweet to plan and design his nursery knowing that he was living those moments, too. (I don’t know if Matt would describe my idea of making the frames for the panels in the nursery as “sweet,” but we sure did make some memories using a saw for the first time!)
It was sweet to witness my mama’s reaction to seeing Jack on the sonogram screen for the first time.
I’ve always preferred the school of thought that defines things by what they are as opposed to what they are not.
For much of my life, I was an impatient waiter.
But now, I revel in this sweet waiting… because bit by bit, another adjective is being stitched next to my name: “mama.”
Design Details and Sources
Photo 1 | Jenny Lind Crib | Chinoiserie Panels in Chai Wan Moss by Mural Sources | Washed Organic Linen Bedding in Ivory by Restoration Hardware | Brighton Vegan Cowhide Rug in Beige by Lulu and Georgia | Antique Cherry Dresser from the 1930s