Today while doing some writing in church the phrase “we’ve waited long enough” came into my brain.
And I got so mad.
I got mad as the words poured out of my brain and as I let pen meet paper.
We’ve waited long enough.
Have you ever been waiting for something? A package or a pizza or a phone call and then you just get angry (or in the case of the pizza-hangry). That you start to tap your feet and clench you fists either from hunger or impatience or other emotion.
The anger isn’t always actual anger but a build up of waiting, a build up of being told one thing but it’s another.
A build up of the resolve with no actual resolution.
It’s funny because in one way or another we’re all waiting.
Waiting for a phone call or a pregnancy test to turn a color or man or woman to come out of the woodwork.
Waiting.
But, we are also waiting for the moment to be who we are.
We are waiting for all the things to fall into place that we can finally be the thing we are meant to be.
And that waiting can make you angry too.
It can make you clench your fists and rage against what might not be tangible.
You could be waiting for permission to be someone you know yourself to be.
Waiting to just try.
But nothing is happening because you are terrified of doing something that isn’t just waiting.
Nothing is happening because putting the thing out into the world we cherish is harder than holding it in our hands.
A few weeks ago I went to an all day conference for work.
And it was maybe one of the most soul crushing days of my life.
(No, I’m not being dramatic).
But, as I sit here I realize that I was getting angry because I was waiting.
That day, specifically, I (well, I could “We” this one-you know who you are) was waiting on hope.
The topic for 8 hours was on ACEs (adverse childhood experiences) and there was just absolutely no hope.
It wasn’t the first time I’ve gone to trainings on the topic and it won’t be the last. But, what was supposed to be a day that gave me a little bit of refreshment and a new tool or two for my classroom brought me nothing but despair.
It was a reminder that things have happened in my life, and my tiny humans lives and their parents lives that effect them. That change how we operate and learn and live.
But there was nothing at all that I tangibly took away. Nothing I could implement or help or bring change too.
I was waiting for hope and I got none.
I’m still trying to find ways to be my own hope in that moment instead of just feeling beaten down.
My waiting in that has gone from anger to exhaustion and the inability to find an answer.
But, in all of this, in the words I wrote today, I realized that sometimes waiting is good and sometimes it just keeps us from being who we need to be.
I don’t know what you are waiting to do.
Take a vacation.
Quit your job.
Propose.
Write a book.
I don’t know if you are waiting because you don’t feel enough or you don’t feel ready or you
are just stuck in the waiting because you are unsure of how to start.
It might not be my place but I want to tell you that you have permission.
You have permission to leave the waiting.
To use the anger and the energy and the clenched fist to make something happen.
To choose to believe that you have the ability to do the damn thing.
You’ve waited long enough.
she writes on sundays 