If patience is something you are supposed to acquire with age and maturity, the train missed my stop (I probably got sick of waiting at the station and left before it arrived.) I got older, I matured, but I never became patient.
On the way home from the grocery store recently, I ripped into a box of cereal before I even left the parking lot. Being the thrill seeker that I am, it was a brand new flavor of Cheerios and the adrenaline I felt in that moment could not be contained for the drive home. For 7 minutes I shoveled Honey Medley Crunch Cheerios in my mouth and then had some deep reflections about life; why couldn’t I just wait until I got home and enjoyed a nice bowl of cereal and milk? I really wasn’t even that hungry. It would have been a lot tastier, and I would have a lot less cleaning up to do in my car right now. But I couldn’t wait.
This is not an isolated incident. In all honesty, I can’t remember the last time I didn’t eat something on the way home from the store. I really can’t remember the last time I had to really wait for anything. Once, I had a beautiful New Years Eve dinner planned but felt a little hungry an hour before the reservation. I did what every young, hungry girl would do and ordered and ate an entire Jimmy Johns sub minutes before heading to a nice restaurant. I am known to get exasperated with waits longer than 15 minutes at restaurants, and leave to find another one so I don’t have to wait (which takes way longer than waiting would have to begin with.) (one day all of my examples won’t involve food…one day)
I live in a world and culture that has everything I could ever want right at my fingertips. Waiting in line at H&M makes me feel like the world owes me something. If my best friend takes longer than 12 minutes to text me back, I get aggressive and ask why she is ignoring me.
Patience is a virtue. A virtue I don’t naturally have. This is rather unfortunate because God has made it crystal clear to me that this season of my life is a season of waiting.
I don’t know what I am waiting for.
I don’t know how long I will be waiting.
In my heart, I just know my job right now is to wait. To be still. To be patient. To rest for an indefinite amount of time. To relinquish control and be content. And wait.
It is really, really hard.
As I was shoveling cereal into my mouth that night, these major life reflections flashed before my eyes. I don’t know how to wait.
While I am busy planning and scheming and organizing and singing and meeting and detailing and worrying and obsessing and (once per week) crying, I just need to be resting.
Praise Jesus I am not a lost cause. This restless, impatient heart just needs a bit of a makeover
How lucky am I that I don’t serve a God who is going to leave me like this? He doesn’t just look at my Cheerio crumb face and shake His head like, “Oh if the girl would just be patient for once.”
( He probably does shake His head because it was a Friday night at 10pm and I am 24 and eating Cheerios in my car, but I know he wasn’t mad, more just baffled)
So this season is for waiting. Holding on to a sweet, beautiful anticipation that God has something amazing for me, and I don’t have to do anything on my own power. Just breathe, trust, repeat.
I know if I could see God’s face right now, He would have this smile for me, barely able to contain excitement for the beauty that He has in store.
“Oh Jenna, just you wait.”
Blessings, not chins