Waiting with Purpose
As I sit in the airport, the voice box notify me that my flight is 1 hour delayed. Four years ago, I would easily have made a fuss. As I adjust to the new schedule, I reflect on the many things going well in my life. The friends I have, my work and my experience with God.
Sometimes chosing to be thankful feels like a distraction. It feels cowardly, running away from asserting how reality should be. It feels like tolerating incompetence and other people’s failure.
But sometimes it is not. oftentimes anger towards people and things is just a reflection of anger I have for myself. It sometimes reflect my own frustrations for myself and my inability to trust that even though things are not working out, I can see things coming through.
Am I really angry about the waiter giving me the wrong order, my loan not yet getting released, my son always crying, or my business losing money?
In many cases, it’s all me. The way I care for and love myself will be the same way I treat people and things that make mistakes.
As a student I was inconsoleable when the computer bogs down; or the printer running out of ink! It is crazy I blame a thing for failing on me – blind to the reality that I can’t forgive myself when I make mistakes.
Life is a journey. We are constantly waiting. We are waiting when: working and waiting for our project’s completion. We are waiting for the next relationship as we meet the fine women around us. We are waiting when we are looking and waiting for the next job. We are waiting when we study hard and pass our assignments in school, waiting to graduate. We are waiting when we ask when will our kids start to walk, start to talk, start to school, graduate to college. We are waiting when someone wronged us, “When will she ever apologize?”. When will my big break start?
What I didn’t realize was that the plane was not the destination. It’s the journey. It’s the video I made for mom while I was waiting and board. It’s the time I played with my perfectly awesome nephew when I still got work to do. It’s when I stopped at lunch time and took a stroll in the park.
In hindsight, it wasn’t me that’s waiting, it was life waiting for me saying “When will I ever start to live?”. God was waiting when I’d use my keys where we could run around the heavenly courts. It’s season of rests where we actually accomplish more than while we’re waiting, and working.
Here’s a picture of all the people waiting for our delayed flight in Iloilo Airport. As for me I’m joyfully waiting. . .