Sometimes waiting is great. Time gives you a chance to anticipate what is to come. Waiting for a wedding date, a baby’s due date, an exciting celebration.
But then you experience “indefinitely.”
We recently moved to a new area. Jonathan was offered a new job opportunity, and the proximity to a major metropolis gave me hope that I could find a job in my field. I found a job I’m qualified for. We decided to buy a house because surprisingly the rental market was far out of our budget. We found a house and our offer was accepted.
And now we wait.
We wait for the bank to make decisions about our loan, for the seller to make decisions about how they are going to proceed with issues, to hear any details from our realtor. And they need nothing from us, we have no say in the decisions being made, and no idea when we might be able to move in. At this point I’ll be happy if it’s before Thanksgiving.
And I continue to send my resume to an employer looking for a candidate with my experience. An open position that’s been available for 5+ months. But I keep waiting. And trying to fill my days while my skills get rusty.
I’m tired. I’m anxious. I’m trying to be patient. I keep hoping if I tell God that I understand what He’s trying to teach me through this time that He’ll bring it to an end. But each new Sunday starts another week of waiting, and it all starts over.