And Now I Wait

I ordered a sweater the other day with some Christmas money. It isn't here yet, and although I purchased it from "that" company with the free two-day shipping deal, I am feeling impatient. I want it now.

My son is always hungry, starving he even says. If I'm making a meal I say, "food will be ready soon." He says, "can I have something to eat while I'm waiting?" My son's got my impatience gene. Ok, so perhaps I nurtured that one into him. Whoops.

The calendar changed again, and while I didn't exactly make any new year's resolutions I did mentally prepare for a fresh start to do better, be better. But I want all my goals accomplished NOW. This is why too often I fail to get any of them done. Failure is good for a person, but not when it happens from inaction. This year I really do want to have more failures, but I want them after trying and giving something my all, and then I hope to turn them into successes. (A new spirit of patience would be great to have immediately so I can get started on all this trying and waiting!)

Reading over my journal from this past year, I laugh, as I do every year, about some of the goals and promises I made. They were good ones, ones I should have been able to keep, but I didn't. This blog, for example, did not get much attention from me in 2017. I wanted to post something new every week, even twice a week. As I think about that goal for this year, I think I'll put more try into it, but I think the most important focus for me should be writing something, somewhere, every day. I might not have anything I want to share publicly every week, but through lots of writing—and writing whatever, even junk—I will find success on the slower goal of writing better.

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It's tough. To tell you the truth I've been working on this blog post for a few days (or at least thinking about working on it over a few days, impatiently wishing it was finished) and, in fact, my sweater arrived and I like it, but I'm waiting on something else. Never content, huh? I want to learn to celebrate what's happening in the moment, or at least the moment before I go to bed and the house is quiet and still. I don't want to feel guilty about what didn't get done or feel upset about what hasn't come.

I want to wait in the stillness and in the noise. I want to work hard for something that might take months or years, and I want to be patient when there isn't anything I can do at all but wait.

Blessings to all of you who are learning to wait.

I can hardly wait to visit this beautiful place again!