I dropped my daughter off at a friend’s house this morning at 9 am.  She played with her friends, she ate a snack, she learned how to measure things as I sat on the midtown direct, sweating through my cardigan.  I have left her before, but this time is different.  This time, I am different.

I needed a job.

One that I would love.

One that would allow me time to spend with my daughter during the day.

One that wouldn’t swallow me whole in an ocean of educational bureaucracy and merit pay.

One that would pay the mounting bills.

And God told me to wait.


How to wait? When there is no promise on the horizon, no hopeful solution.

He is Hope.  He is solution.

He told me to wait.

I rewrote resumes and cover letters and used SAT words and embellished qualifications.

And he told me, “Wait.  I have promised you.  Wait.”

And so, I waited.

As my brain spewed ugly words like, “selfish” and irresponsible”.

I waited.

As the world around me got tighter and smaller and more beautiful- every leaf, every apple.  Everything smaller, in focus while you are in waiting.

As I counted out the pounds of sweet potatoes at the grocery store to match the jingling of coins in my pocket.

And I read and prayed and hoped and waited.

And then our account ran empty.

And I waited.

With a smile.

For the first time, there was no fear in the waiting.

The deeper in I got, I knew the deeper He would go to save me.

I was bright and curious in the waiting.

I was exuberant and joyful in the waiting.

I was broken and humbled and wore ashes in the waiting.

But I waited still.

With hope.

Clinging hard.

Unrelenting until the blessing that was promised would come.

It came.

And I smiled at all the other commuters, angry faced into their  papers.

I had waited.

Now, little ones who’s hearts and minds and lives were waiting- waiting for me.

I get to help them.

And I smiled.  Into my coffee.

Shook hands with the conductor.

“I waited!”

I said with my eyes.


And I realized how blessed I had already been, in the waiting.

How I  clung, still cling, and He blesses me still.

And consider it joy, my brothers-

I do.

All joy.

In the waiting.


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