Waiting is the Hardest Part

I dreamed I was pregnant last night.

(I’m not.)

I was pregnant and waiting for the labor pains to start. I wasn’t dreading labor — my attitude in the dream was very much, “Been there, done that, let’s get this party started.” I just wanted it to start.

(Very much how I felt getting induced with Michael, as a matter of fact. In the dream, I got to eat food, though.)

This feeling of being pregnant, of something pending, of waiting for something to start: it infuses my life right now.

I do feel much of the time that I am waiting for the next thing.

Maybe it’s just because so much of my life is about planning and doing for upcoming events: a weekend away at Seven Springs; the upcoming school year for Flora; my sister’s wedding.

Maybe because I have a creeping-to-overwhelming dissatisfaction (ebbs and flows) with my current work-outside-the-home situation.

I am full. Of potential and possibility, of hope and dream, of the future. I am poised, I am on the cusp.

The waiting is hard, as is the uncertainty of what is next. Maybe it is just events. But maybe it is time for a change. What do I do? Where do I go? How do I do it?

I try to be quiet and be still and listen. Be open, be patient, be strong. Pray and listen.

Something is coming, something is waiting.

Only the rest of my life.

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What do you do when you feel change in the air? Do you wait, or do you seize the day?