My girls are terrible at waiting. Never is this more apparent than at meal time.
First, there’s Eve who, even between bites, forgets where the food comes from. Three seconds without a new spoonful and she’s eating the highchair, her hand, whatever’s in reach. Sometimes I have to pull her fingers out of her mouth to shove the sweet potatoes in.
London is impatient, too, different impatient. Here is London sitting on a stool at the kitchen island “waiting” for me to cut up her waffle at breakfast: “Mama, mama, mama, mama, mama, mama, mama, mama, mama, mama, mama, mama, mama, …” I say, “Yes, London. What do you need?” She says, “Mama, mama, mama, mama, …” And it doesn’t stop until the waffle is in small pieces and she has a fork and the syrup is just the way she likes it and Eve isn’t looking at her while she eats it.
I heard a friend talking about Psalm 62 recently, and I thought about my girls and about waiting. In the first verse David says, “For God alone my soul waits in silence." I love that.
I wonder if I don’t “wait” for God like Eve or London more often than I wait like David.
Like Eve, I forget where good things come from (“God alone”) and I start relying on myself or on relationships or on experiences, expecting that to satisfy me.
Or, like London, I know God’s the source of my blessings but I’m not entirely sure He’ll provide. So, I wait loudly (not “in silence”)—constantly reminding God to look at me, look at me, look at me—hoping that if I’m annoying enough He’ll come through.
I know what it’s like to try to bless people who can’t wait for the blessings. I don’t want to be one of those people.
God, please help me to wait in silence—to find peace in expectation, knowing that You want what’s good for me and that You’ll give it in your own time.