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.


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