Monday, November 27, 2006
When my brother and I were little kids and either of us said "I'm bored" or were somehow driving my mother crazy, she would indicate a bench sitting by the front door of the house and suggest -- "Hey! Why don't you pretend you are waiting for a bus?" So I know I spent a fair amount of my childhood waiting for some existential bus to pull in from the living room. That darn thing was always late.
I am notoriously impatient. I drove my husband up the wall while we were waiting for both our kids' adoption cases to be approved. I am often early to events, because I am both eager and impatient for things to get started. My few attempts at bread baking have failed; I don't allow the dough enough time to rise properly.
We're now in the waiting time of the church year -- Advent. Waiting for Christ to come again; waiting for the bus. I am still learning to enjoy the journey, but right now I am terrible at waiting.