Tag Archives: Waiting

Moment to Moment to Living in the Moment

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I’ve been taking quite a few pictures lately, that record the slow crawl into Spring on Beaver Island this year.

The snow is receding, no doubt, but still blankets half of my garden and much of my yard. Temperatures are rising, but the dampness creates a chill. It’s not time, yet, to turn off the heaters.The ice in Lake Michigan is still posing a challenge; our ferry boat  just announced a further delay of their first trip. Flooding and freezing are still creating drainage problems. Every day there are more signs of Spring; every day there are a dozens reminders of the Winter that just doesn’t want to let go.

I am watching…and waiting.

Too much waiting leads to discouragement.

I’ve written about it before.

Waiting is that limbo state that anticipates but doesn’t offer anything. It delays and postpones. I fall easily into it at any time of year; this particular Spring is only one example.

Waiting becomes the place I am in.

When the wait is over, something will happen.

When the house warms up, it will be easier to finish all of my Spring projects.

When the snow and ice are gone, I’ll be able to get back into the garden.

When the snow melts and the water recedes, I’ll be able to get back into a good walking regimen.

When it gets warmer, I’ll feel more like eating lighter and healthier meals.

When…when…when…

What does that leave, right now? This lumpy, lazy, slothful person waiting for the elusive “when!”

No wonder I’m discouraged!

This is an old battle, with me. I’m a procrastinator by nature and have sufficient skills in logic to justify and explain.

I’m also too smart to be misled by my “logic” for long.

Then, it’s time to dust myself off and give myself a good stern “talking-to”. It’s time to rise up out of my slump and get busy. Time to appreciate each moment , frosty or not. Time to mark accomplishments, not just days off the calendar.

Life is too short, really, for waiting.

Waiting

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Waiting.

It seems I’ve been doing that a lot these last few days.

Waiting for the road to be plowed.

Waiting to hear if my meeting would be cancelled.

Waiting for the cold weather to ease up.

Waiting for bread to rise.

Waiting for more information.

Waiting.

That’s too short a word to describe the act of it.

The “ting” on the end gives it a lilt it doesn’t deserve.

It should be replaced by one of those long, impossible-to-spell, difficult-to-pronounce words that seem to go on and on and on.

Like “onomatopoeia”, maybe.

In it’s purest and best form, waiting is anticipation: waiting for Santa Claus; waiting for the bell to ring; waiting for the announcement.

Usually, though, even when the wait is for something wonderful, the “waiting for…” takes the joy right out of the phrase. Compare:

“The baby has arrived!”

“…Waiting for the baby to arrive.”

Too often, the wait sounds like a state of Limbo, where everything is on hold until the much desired occurrence comes about:

Waiting for my ship to come in…”

Waiting for the right man/a good job/a better deal…”

“Still waiting for that apology/a raise/the respect I deserve…”

Sometimes it sounds downright fatalistic:

“Just waiting for this day/week/year to be over!”

So what happens then? We start on another long day that we can’t wait to be finished with, in our long string of days that make up our lives as we wait – inevitably – for our lives to be over.

Waiting for death.

There has to be more to life than that!

When my friend, Russell, knew that he was dying, he took his adult children to help him stock up on liquid refreshments, as, “folks will be stopping by.” He took his family on a ferry boat ride. He got up to see the sunrise and share coffee every morning.

When my Mom knew that she was dying, she decided she was going to live her days in the comfort of cozy pajamas, read just the books that would lift her spirits and eat only what tasted best to her. She welcomed family and friends around her, reconnected, reminisced and shared memories. She made note of the weather and her view of the lake (“the best view!”) every single day.

These people, with numbered days, were not waiting for death…but living.

This has been my intent: to live with purpose and direction; to pay attention and appreciate each day; to live in the moment.

Sometimes, though, it seems I still find myself waiting.