Waiting

Being Led to Still Water

9x12 oil 2022

Waiting.

It’s not something I like to do. Waiting feels like everything has come to a stop—a suspension in time where nothing moves forward.

Right now, I’m waiting for my husband to undergo his fourth orthopedic surgery on his knee. Then I’ll wait for the message that he’s in recovery. I’ll wait to hear if the surgery was successful. And together, we’ll wait through the long, uncertain weeks of healing—if healing comes.

We all know waiting. We wait for test results, for someone to call, for clarity. We wait to fall in love, to get pregnant, to find the right job or the right house. We wait at red lights—literal and metaphorical.

Waiting has a way of tying my heart in knots. And, like now, worry often comes and sits beside it. They are terrible company, worry and waiting. I’m waiting for my prayers to be answered. And I believe they will be—just maybe not in the way I imagined.

But waiting with worry? That’s its own struggle. My mind jumps ahead and delivers “bad news” long before I’ve heard anything at all. It wanders down roads of fear, and I find myself constantly asking God to quiet me.

This time, the weight of it feels heavier. Worry is shredding my hope, and I’m having trouble believing everything will be okay.

Forgive me, Father.

And still—I wait.

Yet in this slowing down, I realize something: waiting also invites stillness. It interrupts momentum and offers me a holy pause. I’m beginning to see that this waiting might be hallowed ground. So, I’m taking off my shoes and stepping into the arms of the Almighty.

Just thinking these thoughts calms me. Peace begins to settle in and push worry aside.

Even though I’m still waiting.