Even as the time flies, it often seems like I am rushing around in order to wait. Hurry here, hurry there…and then a half-hour wait. Get this done, get that done…and then two weeks of nothing. Rush around all over town, run like a crazy woman…and then slam on the brakes and make yourself comfortable.

Waiting so often seems like a waste. We’re in a hustle-bustle mentality, after all, and there are simply not enough hours in the day. We’re up at dawn, to squeeze a little relaxation out of the morning; late to bed, because there’s so much left undone; throughout the day, we find ourselves scrambling and yawning and wondering why.

But then, just when I think (as I have all week) that waiting is the mother of all frustration, I spend an hour in silence. I sit there, with my Friend, and I wait…for understanding, for wisdom, for peace. And in the stillness of the morning, in the quiet of my mind, in the waiting of my hour…I realize that waiting is part of his design.

Mary waited for nine long months to meet her Savior. She waited throughout his childhood, doing the best she could. She waited at the foot of the cross, not understanding (well, OK, so that’s me, projecting). She waited at the tomb, grieving. She waited as he ascended back to his Father. She waited in the Upper Room.

As I wait, for the silly little things that fill my life, let me wait like Mary. Let me make the waiting into an opportunity for prayer.