I'm trying really hard to slow down. I'm digging my heels into dry hot dust and having trouble figuring out where the brakes are and I just. can't. stop.
I forgot about my kombucha and now it's sour.
The thought of baking another batch of gingerbread makes me want to curl up under the covers and hide from the world.
My favourite people are making amazing jams and planning Christmas feasts, publishing books and being featured in magazines, and I can't even seem to get my head in the game to pack my kids lunches for the week.
Someone I care about is suffering anxiety, my 8 year old has discovered the art of defiance and there is a giant orb spider who came home with our Christmas tree making it's web at the top and I can't even.
There's other stuff in our world that we're focussing so much faith on, clinging to a hope that feels almost like the last straw and I don't even want to think about what happens if not.
There can't be an if not.
Yet this is supposed to be the time of quiet waiting and slow anticipation.
The God who came to us wrapped in swaddling cloth and clothed in human flesh would ask me to cast my cares and I ask if I can cast the list of to-do's as well. Because sometimes it just feels like too much. The waiting and hoping that God will come.
Come to the tiredness, the anxiousness, the impatience, the struggle.
And then I read this, in the waiting.
That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy.
Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.*
Every detail of our lives is worked into something good.
The not-so-good, the messy and the broken: worked into something good.
The lack and the hope: worked into something good.
The tightly clenched fist and the impatient tongue: worked into something good.
So maybe it's less about heels in the dust, and more about knees to the ground, as we let expectancy enlarge us and become more joyful.
*Romans 8:22-28 Message Paraphrase