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.