A Window While I Wait
I’ve come to the conclusion that for some inexplicable reason, the general feel and call of my life is TO WAIT.
I wait in lines at stores.
I wait at soccer and piano practices.
I wait til I can have time to create.
I wait for a publisher to nod yes or no.
I wait for the years when I won’t have to cook for so many people.
I wait for my teenager to come home at night.
I wait for Christmas break.
I wait for school to be out for summer.
I wait for school to start again in the fall.
I wait while others really live.
I wait while others succeed.
I wait for loved ones to get better.
I wait for something to happen. Anything. But preferably something exciting.
I wait for a day when I might have more money, more freedom, more security.
And Today, I wait while my daughter who has Type 1 Diabetes undergoes AG testing for 3 hours. I will do it again tomorrow. My husband and I did this routine just 3 weeks ago for EOG testing…waiting outside the door, ready for what might NOT happen and what we hope won’t happen…her blood sugars plummeting to an unsafe level. I’m here, waiting, armed with journal, sketchbook, knitting, and of course, Maddie’s diabetes bag of supplies.
For the EOG’s, we sat in a chair outside her classroom in the hallway, acting as hall monitors to help with students needing a bathroom break during testing and to be available for Maddie. One of the three mornings, she DID go low. We were so glad one of us was there.
But here, at an elementary school 30 minutes away, with teachers and staff who’ve NEVER met Maddie nor who likely have any training in how to care for a juvenile diabetic, the need to WAIT is even more imperative; for Maddie’s health and ability to test well, for the teacher’s sake, and for my peace of mind.
But for some other inexplicable reason, they don’t want me sitting in the hallway outside her classroom. They say, “it’s for testing security purposes.” Good grief. So they’ve stuck me in a staff lounge around the corner. Will my daughter know I’m here? Will the teacher know I haven’t left? Waiting can be so painful.
A lot of pondering goes on while I wait. Am I being cheated out of time to create? Am I going to live my entire life in a WAITING ROOM while others get to really live? Will I forever be in a holding pattern?
Everything in me wants to redeem these thoughts…to NOT let them be the last words, the final say on my life. I write, I draw, I create to WREST out of the waiting, the mundane, the everyday, the BEAUTY that is contained therein. To WRING out of these seemingly fruitless times, the sweet juice of living.
And I realize, as I write this in my .99 cent composition journal, that light is falling on my book. I’m sitting, in this bland and bleak teacher’s lounge, RIGHT UNDER A WINDOW.
Hazy blue sky with sun’s light is streaming through the blinds. I have an urge to raise those blinds. To hinder NO LONGER the full entrance of light on me. I cannot wipe away the haze nor open these windows…this moment cannot render full sun on me. But I can be grateful for the light, the warmth, even the fact that the full sun’s rays ARE filtered, hindered a bit from blazing too much into my life. Can I be grateful for all the waiting? Can I see beauty in light filtered, hindered from shining full ON?
If I had been “allowed” to sit by my daughter’s classroom in the hallway, I would not have seen this LIGHT. Literally and figuratively. I would not have had my eyes opened to the fact that NO MATTER WHERE I’m waiting, there’s ALWAYS a window. That window is my own eyes. Too many times I choose to clamp them shut, sick of the waiting, refusing to look for the window in my world, refusing to throw open the shutters and raise the sash. I shall not close my eyes today! In the hours that stretch out before me, waiting while Maddie takes tests, I will raise those blinds, and draw.
Draw the view…draw the rooftops…the distant trees. Draw what the window of my eyes see. For in that way…
I WREST the beauty out of the mundane.
I WRING from every corner the liquid love of being.
I CELEBRATE where I am, fully inhabiting the WAIT, transforming it into REAL LIVING.