- This morning I was running late for work. I’m not sure why that would surprise me. Tardiness seems to be my way of life after bearing children, as if the moment they exited my birth canal my internal clock was changed. I’m reminded of the speed-control knob on a record player. As a kid I used to put a record on and slow it down, laughing as the song emitted in super slow motion. I feel like after I had children someone turned my speed-control knob to like 33. The song that is my life still needs to spin at 45 to sound right, but I’m left lagging behind. So naturally, rush about as I might, reenacting my favorite feathered fowl whose head has fallen victim to the farmer’s ax, I still couldn’t manage to get out the door in a timely manner. I cannot explain what miraculous event occurs each weekend, but somehow I have yet to clock-in late in almost two years time now. That apparently doesn’t stop me from trying to break that record every single time I work. Today was no exception. Usually traffic is very light in town via my route to the hospital. If I encounter any traffic at all it’s someone hunting yard sales, and with winter approaching, I didn’t think I’d see any of those. Yet, as I pulled onto the main drag I encountered resistance. I maneuvered through my turn using the yield sign to my full benefit, perhaps testing the traction control of my lightweight car a little too much. I immediately had to break as I arrived behind a caravan of cars. Apparently no one had clued this bunch into the time change, and the light of day brought them out in a horde, a slow moving horde. I picked up the rear with an exasperated sigh, How dare they slow me down when I’m running late! I followed at the snail’s pace, trying my best not to fuss, but it was hard I must admit, and I might just have let a choice word or two slip my lips. It was taking forever behind those slow-pokes, and I was itching to get around them!
I often look at my life, and I’m reminded that God really has a unique plan for me. I guess if I was food, I’d be a crockpot meal. I’m definitely not fast food. From the time my life began it just seemed like I was running behind. I remember being the last kid in kindergarten to learn how to tie my shoes. I never knew a father’s love until I was eight years old, and would often tease my dad about his over-protectiveness of me, stating that at 16 years old, I was only then an eight year old in his eyes as we had gotten a delayed start at our father/daughter relationship. I was always a step behind the other girls. I was still secretly playing Barbie in 7th grade. I didn’t technically enter puberty until I was seventeen. Even in college I took the long way around. I completed an Associate of Science Degree in Nursing after nine years of school and enough non-transferable credits to have a doctorate. I did not marry my true love until after 30, and didn’t start my journey of motherhood until after that. It used to bother me, the fact that it took me so long to get to where I needed to be with things, but then I realized it was for a purpose. Experiencing a loveless relationship with my biological father made me appreciate my daddy so much more, never taking his love for granted, or growing too angry when he did things to protect me. I have no doubt that I’m a better nurse after the path I took to achieve my degree, including my Naval service. I can’t begin to imagine the mess I would have made of things if I had become a nurse two years after graduating high school! That works for a lot of people, it just wouldn’t have worked for me. I am so appreciative of how my husband treats me after experiencing my first marriage and the lack-luster love I received from that relationship. Becoming a mom after 30 was the best decision for me. I can give completely to my girls, selflessly with no feeling that I’m missing out on something in life. I got my traveling, my career, and many life lessons accomplished prior to devoting completely to being a mom.
This morning, as I waited impatiently behind the turtle brigade, I made a decision. The caravan of cars was traveling my exact route to work, but as they all made my usual turn, I decided to go straight then later turn left. I would cut them off! I drove at breakneck speed, turning quickly through a convoluted series of roads. As I came to the stop sign ahead where I would make my signature move ahead of the group, something unexpected happened. As I came to the stop I watched the three slow-moving cars approach and drive past me. All that for nothing! Sometimes even if you search for a short-cut, racing as fast as you can, it won’t gain you an inch. You’ll arrive to your destination when God intends. We hate to wait, and we hate when things go slow, but sometimes that’s just how God works. I thought about a book by Dr. Seuss called, “Oh the Places You Will Go.” One line reads:
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…
I like the book, but I might have to disagree some with the good Dr. I don’t believe it’s a useless place, The Waiting Place. I think it serves more purpose than we could ever imagine. It’s in the waiting that God is able to do the most with us, teaching us, preparing us for the specific and perfect plan He has for our lives. We want the end result immediately, but that doesn’t wield the best result. A pearl is not formed overnight, or even by week’s end for that matter. Trusting in God’s perfect timing is the key, waiting patiently (I know, tough) as He sets up each step, and opens the path before us, the path to the prize He has in store.
5 Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
6 in all your ways submit to him,
and he will make your paths straight.
I have to remind myself of this a lot, to slow down, to wait, to be still, and in that experience something miraculous… Enjoying The Waiting Place.
That is all 🙂