Waiting Joyfully
Remember making paper chains as children? Each day we’d tear off a link of paper to help us count down the days until an upcoming holiday, a vacation, or the return of a loved one from far away. It helped to break our waiting into one day at a time. It made it seem manageable. As we count down these last few weeks until Christmas, I constantly hear my children say, “I just CAN’T WAIT ‘til Christmas!” Their excitement is contagious. We open the advent calendar each day as we inch closer to Christmas morning, arguably the best day of the year. But waiting, whether we’re children or adults, is never easy.
I recently stumbled upon the phrase, “Wait joyfully.” I had to laugh. It sounded like an oxymoron. Who has joy in the waiting? I certainly can’t speak from experience on this one, as much as I’d like to. Every time I’ve waited for something, I’ve done so with a great deal of grumbling. While I can think of plenty of examples of my impatience in school pickup lines, airport security lines, waiting for a response from a friend or anticipating that upcoming vacation, my greatest conviction in this area is most certainly my impatience as a mother.
As part of my journey in the “Hands-Free Challenge,” I’ve become increasingly aware of how much I rush my children through life. Any parent can attest to how much time we spend waiting on our children on any given day. We wait for them to find their shoes, put their toys away, pick their bedtime story, get buckled into their seat, find their homework folder, or for the love of all that is holy, to just GET TO THE POINT OF THE STORY. Currently, I’m getting especially impatient waiting for my 5-year-old son to remember to lift the seat when he uses the potty. (Boys DO eventually remember to do that, RIGHT?!?) Even when they’re infants, we find ourselves wishing for the day when they can walk and we can finally give our aching arms a rest. We eagerly encourage potty training because we are just SO tired of changing diapers. We enroll them in preschool at the first opportunity, ready to embrace the freedom of a few precious hours to ourselves. We impatiently rush them to grow up, and then, before we know it, we’re sitting in an empty house, misty-eyed, wondering where all the time went. Just last week I noticed my son properly pronouncing the word “because,” instead of his usual “uh-cuz.” I’d been correcting him for months and he finally got it. But then I found myself wishing he still had a few of those toddler words left in his vocabulary because now he sounds like a full-blown big kid and I’ll never hear “uh-cuz,” again. I’m resolving not to hurry my children through their short lives any longer. I’d give anything for the return of their sweet little babbles, footy pajamas, bubble baths, and toothless grins. I shouldn’t have wished those days away so quickly.
Throughout the day I find myself rushing my children in one way or another. I’m rushing them through breakfast so we can get out the door on time for school. Once they’re in the car, I’m rushing them to buckle in. Once we get to school, I’m rushing them to grab their backpacks and hop out. After school, I’m rushing them to unload their backpacks and get started on homework. Then it’s rushing them to clean up their toys before dinner, and on to eating their dinner so they can get to bed on time. I rush them into their shower and through their bedtime routines, constantly saying, “Let’s GO you two! Keep moving!” By the time I sit down at the end of the night, I feel like I missed it. The day went by so fast. Do I even remember anything my kids said? Was I even listening?
It’s hard to hear much when we’re rushing, running through life. I wonder what would happen if I committed to stop rushing my kids? We may be a few minutes late sometimes. Their bedroom lights may turn off a little later than usual. But won’t it be worth it? How much more will I notice if I just slow down? Instead of giving my daughter an impatient look as she fumbles through the re-telling of her school day or walks me through the entire storyline of the book she’s just read, what if I focused my eyes and mind on her alone, soaking in every word as if what she has to say is the only thing that matters to me? What if I sit back and laugh at my son’s antics while he’s brushing his teeth and twirling around his room as he haphazardly gets his pajamas on, instead of groaning and rolling my eyes at him? What if instead of feeling like I can’t wait for him to get to sleep, he feels like I just can’t get enough of him? In her book, Hands-Free Mama, Rachel Macy Stafford says this of waiting joyfully: “During this step on my journey I realized the high cost of my impatience. Not only did this hurried way of life create unnecessary frustration, stress, and anger, but it also robbed me of countless moments that mattered.” There is so much joy to be found in the waiting.
When my kids were toddlers, we obsessively watched Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood. Daniel Tiger and his friends in the Neighborhood of Make-Believe got me through some rough parenting moments. (If I’m being totally honest, I have to credit that show for potty training, anger management, and overcoming fear of the doctor’s office. I’m a total fraud.) I still use Daniel’s little life lesson songs to remind my kids of all kinds of things. When any one of us is feeling especially impatient as we wait in a long line, for our meal at a restaurant, or for the arrival of friends, we sing this little number: When You Wait, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SEPBy8rCXYo. It’s a great reminder to make the most out of waiting; to wait joyfully. Don’t wish for the waiting to go away. Don’t rush through the days of counting down. Soak them up. Take them in. Find joy in the waiting. “Try waiting joyfully in the same manner in which you wait for a special occasion. Then sit back and watch as something beautiful unfolds and puts you in your place- the place you’ve always longed to be,” (Stafford).
During the Christmas season, the to-do lists are long, the shopping days are limited, and the busyness increases. We’re too rushed, too distracted. It’s too hard to be still, to wait. Moms so often bear the weight of responsibility during the holiday season. We’re buying gifts, baking treats, donating, hosting, scheduling photo shoots, mailing holiday cards, wrapping presents, and on and on and on. But what would happen if we slowed down and soaked it all in?
My all-time favorite Christmas song is called, “Walk Through Bethlehem,” by Trisha Yearwood (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMsl0dNKPpc). It’s a beautiful reminder for me to breathe, look past all the tinsel and lights, and remember what this season is truly about. When we stop rushing and start kneeling before our God, only then, can we hear His voice. Mary, the mother of Jesus, did this well. The night her son was born, the stable was crowded with visitors and animals. As a mom, I can just imagine how exhausted she must have been. It was probably tempting for her to send everyone home so she could get the baby to sleep and start adjusting to her new routine as a wife and mother. She was likely anxious to get out of that barn and back to their home in Nazareth. But instead, “Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart,” (Luke 2:19). Mary soaked it all in. She didn’t rush, didn’t push things forward so she could move on. She sat before her King, looked deep into His eyes, and tucked those precious moments away to keep forever. This Christmas season, may we do the same. May we slow down, stop, and wait. May we kneel before the manger and take it all in. There is nowhere else we need to be, is there?