Smarter Ardor
  • Blog
  • Smarter Living
  • Homemade Fun
  • About

Help in the Waiting

12/9/2014

2 Comments

 
Picture
Advent is my favorite time of year, a beautiful season of longing, of anticipating, of waiting. With little kids in the house, it is breathless and exciting—every day brings with it reminders of how many sleeps until Christmas. It is fun.

But I find myself now where many who surround me are deep in the trenches of longing of another kind, waiting of another sort. It is breathless— and though it may be hopeful—it is not exciting.  These tenacious people I know get up every day with an ache.

They wait for platelet numbers to come up and stay up so their cancer-fighting spouse of 40 years might come home for Christmas.  

They wait for love. They care for themselves and those around them while staring down another single birthday—they thought it would be so different by now. They are complete, their lives are full, but they are longing for someone to come home to.                                              

They wait for a positive pregnancy test; they long for a pregnancy that does not end prematurely. They smile through tears at the Christmas cards depicting beautiful children and friends they love because they thought they would have pictures like that of their own by now. They are caught in a cycle of hope and of mourning; they ache for a child.

They wait for scans and results to show something new, something better, something different than the symptoms they’re feeling.  They busy their hands while their minds worry and their plans are on hold.

They wait for the reconciliation they know they are promised. They wait for prodigals to come home to stay.

They wait for the sight of their precious 8-year-old son, now bald from months of chemo, to stop being a shock. They wait for it to feel normal, even as they rage that it should not be so. They long for these days to be behind them, even as they embrace all that is good right now. They pray for healing and restoration.

Picture
They wait for broken relationships to mend; they plead for reconciliation with their wayward children before it is too late. They pray the damage is not permanent.

They wait to hear heartbeats, to see wiggling limbs in darkened rooms. They hold their breath, hands on their bellies, marveling over new life within and hoping that all will be well. They are anxious to meet their babies.

They wait for the tension to abate—maybe it’s the holidays? The stress? All these blessed children? They fake smiles, they wait for the joy to feel real; they wait to feel familiar connection with their spouse instead of the cold.

They wait through days when there simply isn’t enough. They stretch themselves, their money, their time; they pray for days when there is enough to rest, even as they give thanks for all there is now.

They wait for their men to come home from faraway seas and deserts. Another baby, another milestone, another Christmas apart. They steel themselves for the emptiness they know will come on Christmas morning. They wait to be reunited.

They wait as they ponder that this time, this life, this everyday isn’t what they thought it would be. It doesn’t feel fulfilling. They are restless for more, even as they embrace what they have.

They wait in stillness, in sadness, as if through smoke. They wait for a glimmer of what they know is still there. They fight it, they hold fast through the circumstances, through depression and doubt. They wait to find themselves beneath it all again.

I am  waylaid and heavy laden; I hurt for my friends. Though no one would ever have accused me of being empathetic before, when I was younger and so sure of so much, now I find myself carrying their burdens—I don’t feel I have a choice.

I want to help. I want to comfort. I want to love well, though I know these are hurts I cannot possibly heal, problems I cannot possibly solve.

PicturePhoto credit: www.photographybybrie.com
My middle child, my Emerie, is fierce. She is brilliant in the literal interpretation of the word—she shines bright and burns hot. We work to dull the heat without dimming the sparkle. Last week as I waited to pick her up from preschool, the mother of one of her classmates stopped me in the hallway to tell me her son hadn’t wanted to come to school that day.

“What about your friends?” she had asked him, “don’t you want  to see your friends?”

“I want to see Emerie,” he replied, “she helps me.” 

“How does she help you?” his mother asked.

“She just helps me get through school easier.”

My eyes welled upon hearing this. Of all the words I say and lessons I teach, of all the hopes I have for my child in her dealings with others—this is the part I could never articulate. The lesson I could never really teach. She won’t always get all the answers right; she won’t always keep her emotions in check; we will have days (like yesterday) that I just want to forget altogether. But this—if she can leave others feeling that it’s all just a little bit easier when she’s around—then we will have imparted all she needs to share God’s love with others.

In this season of waiting and longing, I don’t think the sadness is at odds with the coming joy. The Jesus I know came humbly into darkness, into sadness, into confusion. He fits there; he is comfortable there. We don’t need to sort it all out first. We need only make room, right where we are.

And as we hurt along with the ones we love, may we be like Emerie. May we walk alongside, helpers in the waiting.

2 Comments

    RSS Feed

    Picture

    About Me

    Christina | Virginia Beach
    Psuedo Yankee, city-loving former working mom of four finds herself home with the kids and transplanted to the somewhat Southern suburbs. Finding her feet while still attempting to harness the power of the passion of her youth for useful good.

    Picture

    RSS Feed

    Archives

    March 2020
    February 2020
    March 2019
    January 2019
    August 2018
    April 2018
    November 2017
    July 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    February 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    March 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    August 2013
    July 2013
    June 2013
    May 2013
    April 2013
    March 2013
    February 2013
    January 2013
    December 2012
    November 2012
    October 2012
    September 2012
    August 2012
    July 2012
    June 2012
    May 2012
    April 2012
    March 2012
    February 2012
    January 2012
    December 2011
    November 2011
    October 2011
    September 2011
    August 2011
    July 2011
    June 2011
    May 2011
    April 2011
    March 2011

    Categories

    All
    Anklebiter Anecdotes
    Bendetto
    Careful Feeding
    Charm City
    Complicated Joys
    Family Affairs
    Family Conference
    Festival Of Estrogen
    Grace For Moms
    Help Yourself
    Inanity & Insanity
    Looking Up
    Making It Home
    Mothering Missteps
    Moving Onward
    Music City
    Part Time Lover
    Part-time Lover
    Part-time Lover
    Soapbox
    Stumblings
    Su Casa
    The Village
    This City Life
    Wanderings
    Wifedom
    Worklife

    Links

    Grace for Moms

    MOPS International's Blog

    Amber Hudler

    Smarter Ardor.
    Copyright © 2011-2018.
    All Rights Reserved.
Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.
Photos from lungstruck, Orin Zebest, yaquina, warrenski, Jing a Ling, The Shopping Sherpa, Sir, Rony, orangeacid, adrianvfloyd, SierraTierra, benjaflynn, Homeandgardners, eye's eye, katerha, LivingOS, wolfB1958, andyarthur, Jeremiah Ro, alextorrenegra, ShironekoEuro, mabahamo, iMorpheus, openuser, kamshots, nickHiebert, VinothChandar, Yashna M, mike138, Dougtone, cogdogblog, x1klima