We all know that feeling. Dial the number, listen to it ring, then the elevator music starts up. Sigh. Commence the "waiting" activities. Who know how long we'll be on hold, how many times we'll hear the song start over or how many mindless activities we'll pick up and complete before getting through to the person we need. Sometimes it's a few seconds, and other times it's a couple hours before we find the answers we need and continue on with life.
Why talk about this? Well, that's what I'm doing right now. I'm waiting, "on hold," to find out where I'll be going and when (Africa, right? Maybe next year?). Sometimes it's discouraging. I want to continue with life, rather than playing tetris and counting the boards in the ceiling with one ear to the phone.
But waiting is hardly a passive thing. I still work, I still practice music, I still try to stay in contact with friends and pursue my relationship with Go'd. I know this phase is just that: a phase. But the unknown sometimes gets to me.
I happen to think it gets to all of us. Why else would we all tense in our seats during a movie at the portrayal of a peaceful afternoon at home, when the music changes to signal an unknown danger? We hear a sound and think of burglars, and then a cat comes around the corner. We breathe again, relaxing; it was just a cat. Yet until the unknown becomes the known it might as well have been a burglar, for our hearts know not the difference.
All that to say this: I still covet your prayers. As I wait, you're waiting with me. Together we trust Go'd because of His inherently trustworthy nature. Thanks for hanging out with me in the unknown, whatever peaceful or suspense-filled music may be playing.
