Not easy to be part of the waiting,
We want to get on, to do things,
To achieve, to be onto the next thing,
To be busy and part of the action.
The waiting feels like time wasted,
And yet… and yet… and yet…
The sun will not be hurried,
The night and its stars take their time,
The seas move at their own pace,
And God is with us in the waiting.
His presence saturates the seconds,
The pausing, the longing, the hoping…
These are the dialects of the Author of Life,
As much as the to-do lists,
The jobs done, and the goals achieved.
God speaks the language of stillness,
And his face shines quietly upon us,
Like the invisible rays of the warm morning sun,
Shaping us just a little as we step aside
From the rushing and the clutter,
As we lift our living and our hurrying
And our faces to him.