I thought November was going to be ushered in with sparkling eyes & hot coffee & be absolutely magical.

This cozy, set apart time that God made space for in my life. No weddings booked! Just as I view each wedding date that gets placed on my calendar as divinely set aside, I started viewing November in the same anointed way. For months I’ve looked forward to this, the month I can pause. The month I can start planting roots. The month I can fully unpack from my move in June. I can decide where things live in my home, note how the light looks through the windows at different times in the day, find out what it feels like to walk from my bed to the bathroom without a suitcase to jump over.

But my room is nowhere near clean, the floor an abyss of mismatched socks & abandoned leggings & half-empty luggage. The light coming in through the window is an icy blue, my toes decidedly cold in my slippers, and while I said I wanted coziness I didn’t mean hugging a hot water bottle against my stomach while Aunt Flo came to visit.

Alas, here we are.

It’s November 1^st and the magic I was expecting has not come.

– – –

I like to think I know a thing or two about waiting.

I waited almost a year to move, waited for my body to heal after my car accident, waited longer than I should have for a boy who married someone else anyway. I’ve waited for money to come, for places to live, for answers to tear-soaked prayers.

Sometimes the wait goes well. I’m patient, pointing out the gold instead of the dirt in whatever’s happening, accepting that God’s good timing is what I’m waiting on.

Sometimes… sometimes the wait doesn’t go so well.

All examples of our Heavenly Father coming through for me are forgotten, leaving my stomach in knots, my brain in crisis management mode (except without any of the calm needed to handle a crisis), and my faith in who God really is waylaid in lieu of something supposedly more concrete: my ability to help myself.

That thinking doesn’t tend to be helpful. Never have I ever waited well by telling myself I can fix the situation alone. That thinking usually results in – well, not waiting.

I believe actions, not words, show how committed you are – so you can imagine about how well waiting & I mix when I’ve suddenly had spiritual amnesia, forgetting how good the Lord is, how He is FOR me, how much my desires matter to Him.

Some of those actions have included packing boxes before I told anyone I was moving, playing basketball with a concussion, knocking on that boy’s door after not speaking in weeks.

(I don’t recommend any of the above, by the way.)

Packing so early made me wish away my time in Langley instead of savouring it, trying to force my body into healing made my injuries worse, and the walk I went on with that guy did nothing to help my heart move on.

– – –

I’m tempted to say that waiting isn’t magical.

Because it is and it isn’t.

Waiting well is hard. Being honest about how the wait’s going, how your heart is handling not getting what you think you want – it’s hard. Being vulnerable – letting your true self be seen, even if it’s just by you – is hard. The inner work we allow the Lord to do in us while we wait is hard & feels fiery at times & sometimes we run the opposite direction – because at least it’s ME doing something, amiright – but man alive, becoming more like gold is worth it.

The hard work is worth it.

And along the way there are magical moments. A roommate will begin playing music on the piano & you’ll take your hot water bottle & your heavy heart down the stairs just to sit with her. The melody will comfort you like the quilt over your lap, making all things feel cozy & peaceful, worries taken away as truth is proclaimed over & around you.

And eventually the sun will come out, perhaps before you’ve even had a chance to fully process what the greyness meant to you before. And maybe you’ll want to sit in the grey for a while longer but baby, it’s God’s timing we’re working with here, so let go of the grey.

Let go of the grey.

The gold is there. Even if there’s more waiting in store – and there usually is – take note of the gold.

The gold is where the magic lives. It may not be flashy, it may just be sitting around the living room on a Monday night laughing over nothing & everything, but seeing the gold helps make the wait magical.

And so, November, I will wait for whatever it is God has in store for us. With an expectant heart, with grace for myself as life happens this month, with eyes ready to point out the gold & hands ready to receive it:

I will wait.

 

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