On Hold . . .

"I'll just take care of this phone call quick and then tackle the rest of today's list," I thought as I gathered the required paper work, grabbed a pen and paper, and punched in the number. At the prompt, I entered my account number. The "voice" told me it did not match their system, and would I please call another number. Okay.

I've been on hold for an hour now, hearing the same music and messages over and over. I logged into my account online, hoping this option would lead to a better outcome, only to be told they couldn't find my account. Great. 

It's hard to vacuum when you're on hold, so I caught up on email - and then . . . Of course! I've been wanting to write a blog post . . . and here's the perfect topic. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's been on hold for . . . how long now?

Just this week, a friend and I chatted at my dining room table over steaming mugs of tea. Her young enthusiasm and passion for her work and history interests brightened my day. In the course of the conversation, she asked what I was up to. I mentioned a few quiet opportunities God has brought my way, speaking and otherwise, which are stretching me and, at the same time, bringing with them a certain anticipation and energy.

I refilled our mugs. "No big writing projects right now. I think I have enough to keep my busy for the time being."

"You can wait confidently," she enthused. "You knew you were supposed to write your book and then the Leader's Guide. God will make it just as clear to you when and what the next writing project should be."

True enough.

Since then, I've been thinking about what it means to wait, to be "on hold" with no guaranteed ending time, to feel uncertain about our next steps. Waiting with confidence looks very differently than waiting anxiously or waiting fearfully or waiting doubtfully or timidly or tentatively. Waiting expectantly has less to do with us, really, and much more to do with an infinite God, who never wastes one minute of life's delays.

We may feel like we're on hold, hearing the same ole thing and feeling unproductive . . . never easy, like when we're waiting for test results, word from a loved one, or the green light on a coveted position. Yet when the time is right, God whispers His truth. He gets to the heart of the matter. He may or may not solve life's dilemmas in the way we desire but enlarges our perspective and nudges us to trust Him with our life stories in the midst of multiple loose ends and unanswered questions.

So, let's stay on the line. When we find ourselves in trouble, the Lord is our refuge and strength (Psalm 46:1). When we feel burdened down, He invites us to confidently cast our cares on Him (1 Peter 5:7). When we're weary, He invites us to come to Him to find rest (Matthew 11:28-30). He never hangs up on us. He's worth the wait.

By the way, the girl who answered my call worked hard to bring resolution to my issues. After expressing my appreciation, I noted the length of the call: 1:46:59!

Empty Yet Full

Empty . . .

An apt description of the house when the last one leaves after a holiday. Can you relate? No bags stashed here and there. No toys to trip over. No sippy cups in the kitchen sink. No crowded bathroom counters and towel racks. No half-open suitcases. No scattered shoes and boots in the breezeway. No extra cars in the driveway.

And more obvious, no adult children and grandchildren gathered around, playing games, laughing, or eating around the table. All may be calm and bright, but as the emptiness echoes its stillness, I feel the loss.

At the same time, my heart is full . . . full of memories. Talking until 2 a.m. the night my college-age daughter flew in. More hours of talking, talking, talking. Shopping at Kohl's because her internship is right around the corner. Listening to her play the piano and sing. Welcoming the older girls and their families. Catching up. Cuddling a two-month-old and seeing his wide smiles for the first time. Reading stories. Singing carols by a crackling fire. Taking my oldest grandson to see The Nutcracker the day after Christmas. Enjoying a roast beef Christmas dinner, along with my dad and a friend. Playing Jenga. Sharing gifts and stories. Missing those no longer with us.

One family came on Sunday the 23rd and left the very next day due to our three-year-old's bout with vomiting and diarrhea. After a hurried gift opening, we all had tears in our eyes when they pulled away to try to get home, mommy and bucket in the back seat just in case.

Today, I said my last good-bye of the season. Our youngest drove off in her daddy's 2005 Corolla, new wiper blades in place, EZ Pass transponder and GPS attached to the windshield and, just to make me feel better, a few maps tucked in the passenger door pocket. Since 2015, I've babied this car . . . inspections, tires, maintenance . . . because I knew this day was coming, the day when she would drive it back to school in the mid-west. Barry would be proud of her (and all of them) if he were here. 

After a good cry, I got busy. Putting things in order has always been my way of coping. Does it ever get easier? 

As I mopped the bathroom floor and folded towels, I thought about what happened after Mary's encounter with Gabriel. Luke 1:39 tells us, "In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a town in Judah" to visit Zachariah and Elizabeth. Although the Bible doesn't mention Mary's mother, I couldn't help but wonder how she felt when Mary said a hasty good-bye to take a 70-mile trip. Did concern for her daughter's well-being and safety occupy her thoughts? Did she wake up to pray in the dark of the night? 

Somehow this ancient un-named mother gave me courage as I said my own good-byes today. She invested years sharing biblical truth and practical knowledge, then moved out of the way to allow her daughter to follow God's leading. In the same way, I want to be supportive of all three of my daughters. I hope we've given them roots. Now it's time to give them wings (and wheels!). 

Empty? Yes, but with a heart full of thanksgiving and anticipation in a brand new year. 

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