elizabeth hamilton

Scribbled on a piece of lined paper torn from one of my notebooks and pinned to the gray wall beside my desk are these words: “See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop, patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains.”

I wrote the words several months ago, when I needed reassurance. Reassurance that it was okay to be waiting. Reassurance that I was all right where I was. I need that reassurance today.

How quickly I forget that waiting is essential to receiving, that waiting is a gift. Yesterday, life seemed extravagant. I was more than content; I was happy. Hope bloomed inside me, lifting me off the ground.

But today is Monday, and I’ve already forgotten the truth that waiting is essential to receiving, that waiting is a gift.

So I need the words my past self penned to my future self, reminding me that everything good comes with a season of waiting. I think of the farmer, who waits for the rain; I think of the artist, who waits for inspiration; I think of Mary, who waits for her Son to be born.

The farmer in the verse has patience – and isn’t that key? Isn’t the proper attitude while waiting patience? Isn’t it when we still our hearts, when we give up control, isn’t that exactly the point when we see most clear?

Yesterday, it rained in Dallas. Today, it’s sunny and brisk. But rain will come again. So will fulfillment. In the meantime, we wait with patience.

Tagged: Advent