On Waiting

On Waiting

To start, let me say I am a huge fan of Dr. Suess.  Many lessons can be learned from his writings.  And one of my favorites is Oh, The Places You’ll Go!. But I have huge beef with three pages of the book.  And on this day in particular, a day that we are commanded to ‘wait’, it seems to heighten my disapproval.

“You can get so confused that you’ll start in to race down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place. The Waiting Place...for people just waiting. Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting. Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting. NO! That’s not for you! Somehow you’ll escape all that waiting and staying...”

And so on a day in which we have to wait, these words seem hollow to me.  I feel this way during Advent too, a time in which we have to wait for the coming of the Messiah, despite the fact that most of society celebrates his coming immediately following Halloween (a different discussion for a different day).

The thing is, we are all waiting on something.  

Some good things, some not so good.  

My family has experienced an extreme amount of illness this year.  Every time one person comes down with something, we wait for the rest of us to catch it. Seriously, three major viruses since the turn of the year, and my youngest was diagnosed with Flu, Type B just this morning.  She won’t be celebrating Easter with her church family tomorrow.  I suppose we are waiting to see if any of the rest of us catch it.

But there is other waiting too.

I’m waiting for my son to settle back into a solid sleeping pattern, which means I am waiting for more sleep for me too, which means I am waiting to resume my hobby of running, which means I am waiting to feel more healthy myself.  

I’m waiting for my children to get old enough so that we aren’t spending an insane amount of money on child care, which would mean more money to give away and to spend on my severally lacking golf game.  I’m waiting.  

After seven years of living in a place I’d called home, I’m waiting for these roots we’ve planted in Charleston to take hold, so that it too will start to feel like home.

I’m waiting for the weather to warm up, so we are relegated to the house all the time. 

And on top of all of this, I’m waiting to finally hear some good news from some friends of mine who are battling some pretty ferocious shit (excuse the language) right now.  Because in reality, all the stuff that I am waiting for right now, pales in comparison to the stuff they are waiting for.

So, in all due respect to Theodor Giesel, the Waiting Place is a place of value and worth, because we are all there, and we are people of value and worth.  And waiting three days for the best news the world ever received doesn’t seem to be useless at all.