Why Do You Wait?

It is one of those nights. I forgot the realities of my age for a moment and drank a cup of hot tea before bed (English Breakfast), with caffeine, and am paying the price for my comforting ritual. So, here I am at 1:45 in the morning, unable to sleep and mulling over various and sundries. One of my mulling points is how much time I have spent waiting.
When I was a child, I was waiting to grow older, not grow up, just older. I wanted to be old enough to go to school, old enough to wear lipstick, old enough to drive a car, old enough to leave my parent’s home. Then I was "grown up" and I was once again waiting... waiting to get married, waiting for Tim to come home from Viet Nam, waiting for the grief to ease, waiting for a new life to take shape, married again and waiting for babies to be born, waiting for teeth to come in and potty training to happen, waiting at soccer games and dance performances and piano recitals, a lady-in-waiting. While I was waiting, life happened and it was good and hard and wonderful and funny and sad. Everything I was waiting for, came to me.
There is an old invitational hymn, Why Do You Wait, that floated through my cloudy mind as I lay pondering my particular waiting game. "Why do you wait, dear brother, Oh why do you tarry so long? Your Savior is waiting to give you a place in his sanctified throng. Why not? Why not? Why not come to him now?" I did come and yet I waited still.
My waiting, however, has not been a passive state, lying abed like Snow White waiting for the Prince to come kiss me awake. It has been a quiet, expectant, hopeful way of living that knows there is more to come, more than I can see or touch or smell or taste or hear. All the mile posts that have whizzed by as I was living were not all I was waiting for. I was and am still, waiting for God to come.
God has come many times to me in my life. In the frozen silence of grief and loss, God’s voice whispered in my ear, "Wait for me". I waited and there God was in the arms and faces and voices of those who loved me. In the frenetic fun family times when children were young and silence was rarely available, God spoke to me in my children’s voices affirming the joy of creation and the wonder of life. And now in the quiet of my sixties, I hear and see and taste and smell and feel God all around me. My waiting is rich with possibilities and promise. Like the Psalmist of old,
"I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord more than the watchman waits for the morning."
Advent is coming and I am waiting once again... waiting for incarnation and a baby boy to be born who will be named Jesus... waiting for hope, love, joy and peace... waiting for God to show up.