I’m trying to find gratitude in the waiting. I feel like a series of shifting continents, searching for somewhere to settle. Endlessly adrift in seas that don’t nurture me. I know I’m moving in the right direction, I know that I’ll get there. But the travel is slow and arduous. It feels like my daily efforts are wasted against inertia.
But I’m trying to find grace in the downtime. I’m fortunate be on the journey I’m on. And time will continue to ferry us forward in that irritatingly unflinching way that it does. Someday, I’ll reach my destination and this period of anxious anticipation will feel like a long forgotten dry spell in the rainfall. I will become busy, and the days will pass with little notice. I’ll arrive before I know it. And still, I feel like I’ve crested a hill only to see how far I have to go.
But I’ll find peace in my faithfulness. My wavering will not cause me pause, only momentary grief. I am already on course and I will venture forward nevertheless. I’m simply hoping for fairer seas once I arrive at where I’m going. I yearn for long stretches of good fortune. I am looking forward to enjoying the lavish returns on my investments. I am planting plentiful seeds, it is only winter.