Waiting

I am waiting for spring to come with something approaching desperation. It hasn't been the coldest winter, and it certainly hasn't been the snowiest, but it has been gray and dreary and rainy and long. Does sunshine even exist? Is there such a thing as a warm breeze? Is there anything but this flat light and this thoroughly drenched, cold, muddy ground? Spring seems impossible — a fantasy. I am waiting.

This morning I read Psalm 130, and this verse struck me: "I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning."

I am not big on the waiting. I tend to take the short view, focus on the now. I am an American Christian, immersed in my culture. We don't wait.

But lately I have been pondering the ways that God is reflected in the realities of daily life. If we would pause and reflect, we might see a bit more clearly. So this morning what I see is that it is possible to wait for God, for heaven, for the real life — the life to come — with true yearning and desperation. This is winter's lesson for me this morning. "I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope."