A Time to Wait
23/03/13 05:02
I know that my sense of humor is quirky. I find things to be funny where others don’t see the humor. I am chuckling this morning over a not posted on the Rapid City Journal’s web site:
“EASTER EGG HUNT POSTPONED BY SNOW: The Optimist’s Easter Egg Hunt scheduled for 9 a.m. today at McKeague Field has been postponed one week due to weather.”
Now, you know those people are optimists. They have to postpone their hunt for a whole week and when they do hold it, it still won’t be Easter. They are such optimists that they want Easter to come more than a week early!
Joking aside, it is another sign of our impatient culture. It seems as if we Americans can’t wait for anything. As soon as Halloween is past, the stores are decked out for Christmas. On December 26, they put up Valentine’s Day displays. And they skipped Lent entirely and went straight to Easter.
It is a bit sad, however, to see a culture that is in such a rush that it has forgotten how to wait for things that are important. Because waiting is part of life and it is a skill that we need to practice. There are occasions when life and death catch us by surprise, sweeping suddenly without warning and catching us unprepared. Massive heart attacks, accidents, tragedies of war and other events are real and I don’t want to pretend that they don’t occur, but more often, in my experience, there is a process of waiting that attends the death of a person. The diagnosis comes, but the doctors can’t say how much time the person has to live. Many illnesses leave a person debilitated for some time and in need of care for a period before death comes. Families gather.
One of the blessings of my life is that I have been frequently invited to sit with families as they wait. We have sat in homes, in hospitals, in nursing homes and in the hospice house. We have gathered and talked and laughed and sung and prayed in vigils as we wait. Part of the waiting is a sense of dead and anticipation. We don’t know what the moment of death will be like. We don’t want to rush a thing. As long as there is the possibility of relationship, each moment seems like a precious treasure. Time moves at its own pace. We are allowed to move outside of clock time. Day and night merge into each other and the day of the week seems to not be as important as it once was. When I keep vigil with families, we are often quiet as we wait. Sometimes there are no words to express the sense of building grief and anticipation. Sometimes we need no words. Being together has its own value. It is a gift that gives perspective to the often over-scheduled, too-busy parts of our lives.
But there are many who come into times of vigil unprepared. I have sat in the corner of the room as family members rush about, come and go, try to run errands or set up meetings – any activity to avoid the stillness and quiet of waiting. I have seen busy, capable people, impatient with the waiting, demand that doctors and nurses tell them when things will happen when that information is not available. I have watched family members fill their hours with activities that could be postponed. And sometimes, I have witnessed as they miss the most intimate and deeply meaningful moments of the passage of their loved one because they are not able to sit with the quiet and wait.
We are not practiced at waiting.
We’d love for Easter to come on the Saturday before Palm Sunday. We think that such anticipation makes us optimists.
That makes me sad, because there is deep meaning in embracing the sadness. There is great power in waiting. There is powerful joy in allowing events to unfold along a timetable over which we have no control.
Holy Week is about practicing for the times that will come in every life. It is an invitation in our crazy-paced world; “Hey! Slow down! Come and sit for a while. Better times are coming, but they come at their own pace. If you want to feel the power of healing, experience the pain. If you want to understand resurrection, go face to face with the reality of grief.
There is good news in that little note posted on the web site. Even the optimists can’t control the weather. They had to encounter the reality that there are things in this world that are beyond their control. The schedule that they probably made up months ago can be changed. Not only is control impossible, it isn’t necessary. Life goes on. The snow is beautiful. The forest is thirsty. We need that snow much more than we need the empty calories of the candy. And the candy is packaged and sealed so tightly that it will last for more than a week.
Today is a good day for waiting.
We had planned to spend the morning splitting firewood for our neighbors, but that will have to wait. We have enough wood to split that there will be many days and if some splitting parties are missed, there will be many others. The process of helping neighbors isn’t a task that you “finish” at any rate. It is a way of living, a practice of our faith, just like waiting is a practice of faith. And practicing faith is a way of being more fully present in the realities of life.
I am not a patient person, but I am learning to grow in the practice of waiting. With the pageantry and palms of celebration tomorrow, I once again receive the invitation to slow down – to experience life one day at a time. We all know that death and pain are real. We have witnessed decline and cutback and realigned priorities. We can name the losses we have experienced. We can list the names of those who have died. Any fool can wallow in sadness.
We, however, have been once again given the opportunity to sit with grief long enough to watch the dawn of hope. This far from Easter, it may be that our hope is more arrogant than audacious, but we refuse to let hope die even in the darkest hours.
Easter will come, but let’s not rush it. We’ve much to practice before that day.
Now, you know those people are optimists. They have to postpone their hunt for a whole week and when they do hold it, it still won’t be Easter. They are such optimists that they want Easter to come more than a week early!
Joking aside, it is another sign of our impatient culture. It seems as if we Americans can’t wait for anything. As soon as Halloween is past, the stores are decked out for Christmas. On December 26, they put up Valentine’s Day displays. And they skipped Lent entirely and went straight to Easter.
It is a bit sad, however, to see a culture that is in such a rush that it has forgotten how to wait for things that are important. Because waiting is part of life and it is a skill that we need to practice. There are occasions when life and death catch us by surprise, sweeping suddenly without warning and catching us unprepared. Massive heart attacks, accidents, tragedies of war and other events are real and I don’t want to pretend that they don’t occur, but more often, in my experience, there is a process of waiting that attends the death of a person. The diagnosis comes, but the doctors can’t say how much time the person has to live. Many illnesses leave a person debilitated for some time and in need of care for a period before death comes. Families gather.
One of the blessings of my life is that I have been frequently invited to sit with families as they wait. We have sat in homes, in hospitals, in nursing homes and in the hospice house. We have gathered and talked and laughed and sung and prayed in vigils as we wait. Part of the waiting is a sense of dead and anticipation. We don’t know what the moment of death will be like. We don’t want to rush a thing. As long as there is the possibility of relationship, each moment seems like a precious treasure. Time moves at its own pace. We are allowed to move outside of clock time. Day and night merge into each other and the day of the week seems to not be as important as it once was. When I keep vigil with families, we are often quiet as we wait. Sometimes there are no words to express the sense of building grief and anticipation. Sometimes we need no words. Being together has its own value. It is a gift that gives perspective to the often over-scheduled, too-busy parts of our lives.
But there are many who come into times of vigil unprepared. I have sat in the corner of the room as family members rush about, come and go, try to run errands or set up meetings – any activity to avoid the stillness and quiet of waiting. I have seen busy, capable people, impatient with the waiting, demand that doctors and nurses tell them when things will happen when that information is not available. I have watched family members fill their hours with activities that could be postponed. And sometimes, I have witnessed as they miss the most intimate and deeply meaningful moments of the passage of their loved one because they are not able to sit with the quiet and wait.
We are not practiced at waiting.
We’d love for Easter to come on the Saturday before Palm Sunday. We think that such anticipation makes us optimists.
That makes me sad, because there is deep meaning in embracing the sadness. There is great power in waiting. There is powerful joy in allowing events to unfold along a timetable over which we have no control.
Holy Week is about practicing for the times that will come in every life. It is an invitation in our crazy-paced world; “Hey! Slow down! Come and sit for a while. Better times are coming, but they come at their own pace. If you want to feel the power of healing, experience the pain. If you want to understand resurrection, go face to face with the reality of grief.
There is good news in that little note posted on the web site. Even the optimists can’t control the weather. They had to encounter the reality that there are things in this world that are beyond their control. The schedule that they probably made up months ago can be changed. Not only is control impossible, it isn’t necessary. Life goes on. The snow is beautiful. The forest is thirsty. We need that snow much more than we need the empty calories of the candy. And the candy is packaged and sealed so tightly that it will last for more than a week.
Today is a good day for waiting.
We had planned to spend the morning splitting firewood for our neighbors, but that will have to wait. We have enough wood to split that there will be many days and if some splitting parties are missed, there will be many others. The process of helping neighbors isn’t a task that you “finish” at any rate. It is a way of living, a practice of our faith, just like waiting is a practice of faith. And practicing faith is a way of being more fully present in the realities of life.
I am not a patient person, but I am learning to grow in the practice of waiting. With the pageantry and palms of celebration tomorrow, I once again receive the invitation to slow down – to experience life one day at a time. We all know that death and pain are real. We have witnessed decline and cutback and realigned priorities. We can name the losses we have experienced. We can list the names of those who have died. Any fool can wallow in sadness.
We, however, have been once again given the opportunity to sit with grief long enough to watch the dawn of hope. This far from Easter, it may be that our hope is more arrogant than audacious, but we refuse to let hope die even in the darkest hours.
Easter will come, but let’s not rush it. We’ve much to practice before that day.