Waiting

Wait!
Hurry up.
Just a minute, please.
How much longer is it going to take?

The above dialog is a fair/faithful script that depicts two particular characters holding opposing views. Both characters have a strong presence in my heart. On the one hand there is Mr. Life (circumstances) which delights in forcing me to wait, and on the other there is my inner voice which seems to rebel against patience at every occasion.

Wait, Lou, wait!

It seems that my entire life has been a laboratory for me to learn the ABCs of patience. My mom informed me that I was born almost two weeks past her due date. I was three months old when Manmie got sick and I was left into the care of others until she recovered. So, even as a baby, I was granted the opportunity to learn the art of waiting.

Wait, little baby, wait!

I was about to turn 4 years old when my family left the remote mountains of northern Haiti and moved to Port-au-Prince so that my older siblings and I could pursue our formal education. The house into which we moved had not been completed yet, contrary to the agreement between Papi and the contractor. The living area was the only room that was complete with a roof. The other rooms in our modest house were completely exposed to the elements.

We arrived in Port-au-Prince just in time for the rainy season. Night after night, Manmie had to shield us from the rain with whatever item she could find. According to my family, I eagerly encouraged my family to pray for the workers to finish the roof. Those memories of waiting in the wet rain still seem bereft of any sign of patience on my part.

Wait, little toddler, wait!


As I grew older, I was provided with ample opportunities to become increasingly more desirous of speed, alacrity, and immediacy in the ways things were done in Haiti.

I wanted missionaries to meet the numerous needs facing them at a faster pace.
I wanted pastors to minister to their parishioners as soon as problems surfaced.
I wanted the women carrying baskets full of produce to arrive at the public markets earlier.
I wanted my classmates to accept, embrace, praise, and love me more readily.
I wanted everything to happen as soon as the wish popped into my head.

Wait, little boy, wait!

By the time I was 10 years old, I had already convinced myself that I deserved better in life:

-  Better circumstances
-  Better food
-  Better health
-  Better friends
-  Better family
-  Better country
-  Better everything

Such convictions resulted in an attitude that reflected the arrogance that I knew better than God did in terms of what I deserved and when I should receive what I thought I deserved. I did not realize that God really knew what He was doing in causing me to learn the art of waiting. There were battles to win, sorrows to overcome, failures to surmount, and mountains to climb -- none of which could have happened without acquiring the wisdom that comes through a season of waiting.

So, at 10 years of age, I was  made aware that I was embarking upon a journey of patience for the rest of my life. It became evident to me, then, that God will always use any combination of pain and pleasure in His timeline for His greater purposes and that the manner in which I respond to His timing will determine whether or not I will let those opportunities for growth slip by me untapped or unused.

Wait, precious child, wait!

"Wait for the Lord, 

be strong and take heart 

and wait for the Lord." 

Psalm 27:14, NIV

Father, infuse my veins with the passion and power to accept seasons of waiting as lessons of wisdom from Your loving hand. In Christ alone, I pray. Amen.