Right now the rain is coming down in torrents. Trees are blowing frantically in the strong wind. Leaves circle in whirlwinds down the road. I sit inside in my living room, dry and alone. Mozart is playing to me through our Bluetooth speaker.
My life feels a lot like the weather today. Grey and foggy. The days do not bring bright, sunny, hopeful expectations. There is little clarity.
Leaving behind a career that was leading me on a very predictable and straightforward path has placed me here. I am so much happier but, still, how easy it is to grow impatient and dissatisfied and discontent. I congratulate and celebrate the successes of my working friends while motherhood leaves me feeling smaller and smaller. I wait for the next thing while trying to value my time at home with my kids.
I am standing at my kitchen sink, hand under the running tap, waiting for hot water when there is only cold. And the waiting drives me crazy. Furious at times. But then suddenly the water turns hot and scalds my hand. Warmth always comes. And I know the sun always shines after a storm.
Everything happens in its own time. I am not in control. I can only wait and in the waiting work hard, so very very hard, to be content. Because gratitude is not my natural tendency. What I want is not always given to me, and doesn’t always come in the timing I desire. I have to wait for the flowers to bloom. For the rain to stop. For the sun to rise and the tide to lower and the water to turn hot.
Everything happens in its own time. My hopes and dreams are no different. Impatience does not hasten the natural rhythms of life. All I can do is wait and watch, while slowly, carefully, lovingly, things begin to shift. Spring comes. A choir begins. But always on its own time. I am not the conductor, only a voice in the choir. And so I wait for my cue.