This morning I walked out into one of the most beautiful days I can ever remember. It wasn’t just the bluest of blue skies, nor the greenest of spring grasses, it was the early morning haze which infiltrated the purple-buds of trees, etherealized the clouds of blush-white cherry blossoms and made the tips of tender new leaves shine a golden emerald. I suddenly realized that my days among this Virginia beauty were numbered—and that mornings such as this glorious one were fast fading away.
Oh! be still, my heart.
We, Tim and I, have entered into a new stage of waiting in our lives as the summer approaches and with it a move to Boston. You can imagine my delight in knowing the time remaining at my current job is limited, yet there is sadness too as we prepare to leave our first, beloved home as newlyweds and the church whose people we have already come to know and love. We wait to know where we will live next, I wait to know where I will work, I wait to know what new roads and shops will become my life, what new space our lives will fill.
It seems to me that our whole lives are made up of seasons of waiting. I remember being fourteen, “waiting for life to begin” as I put it—when the boys (whom I already liked) would finally wake up and notice me. Then I remember being seventeen—the anxious days waiting to hear back from colleges about acceptances and scholarships. There were semesters of college, waiting for tests, waiting for finals, waiting for a dance or performance or date. Waiting for graduation. Waiting for a job. Waiting for marriage.
Waiting for Tim! Ah, I waited a long time for him, and he for me. There were countless days and nights of tears waiting—and hoping—for him. Wondering what strange (and seemingly impossible) circumstances would have to align to bring us together. But God brought it about.
And now that particular waiting is over. Just yesterday I had to just stare at his beloved profile in the car—awed yet again that we live our lives as one—hand-in-hand, side-by-side. My dream come true.
Oh, my dear heart.
When did that waiting end? and this new waiting begin? All along, this happiness was so incredibly soon! It was waiting for me, just around the corner. And now that I’m there, you’d think that somehow the waiting would end, but no, instead I find new things to wait for. When we whisper our dreams at the close of the day—Tim and I are still waiting, waiting for a permanent home, waiting for our future children, waiting to know what our life will bring.
This season turns into next. Someday we’ll be waiting for our children’s dreams—their graduation and marriage and children.
And it is right, in some way, that we are always waiting.
I sensed, felt more than thought, this morning the curious juxtaposition of our daily lives in light of waiting for our eternal home. We are called to embrace the NOW—the fleeting dream that we live—even as we realize that we are not where we will one day be—that there is so much more awaiting us in our heavenly home of the Forever Now. When Goodness and Beauty and Truth will never end. When all the tomorrows become Today.
But we are waiting for that day—and days such as this morning remind me of that glory—and that it’s coming.
So soon, my heart.