As a child,
emotions of anticipation, daydreams, waiting and expectations were part of
growing up. I can remember how exciting
it was between Thanksgiving and Christmas when I would be so full of
anticipation and dreams of the gifts that Santa Claus would bring. Usually, there was one “big” item that I
focused on and hoped that Santa would find a way to deliver under our modest slash
pine Christmas tree. In my wildest
imagination, I didn’t allow myself to foresee anything beyond that one
item. Anything beyond that was pure
“gravy.”
As time moved
forward into my teen years, I continued to try to focus on what I hoped
for. No more Santa Claus dreams, but what
I wished for in life. Would I be
married? Would I have children? Would I go to college? Would I be successful in whatever I
chose? Being a planner by nature, I had
a mental outline of happiness for me.
It was very clear in my mind and my heart that I wanted to marry my
sweetheart, have a family and a home of my own.
It all equaled love, happiness and security.
In my own way, I
imagined how I could make it all happen.
I would write down a list of things that would be needed to make my life
happen just the way I hoped for. I
wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I finished high school, got a job,
bought a refrigerator and stove “on time” and figured, heck, I was practically
there. Next, the china, silver and
crystal patterns, bridal showers, and a wedding. Then poof, two young people in love were married and
ready to take on all the fun that goes into raising a family, like bottles,
diapers, making a home, buying a car, food, clothes, insurance, and on and
on. I figured some of it would have to
wait, but we had carefully figured it all out on paper that we could make it
work. $2.00 a week here, $2.00 a week
there. $20 a month rent, we wouldn’t eat
much, so we could save a lot on groceries by carefully shopping. We didn’t need any clothes since we brought
everything we owned to our newly furnished (“on time again”) apartment. We didn’t have a car, but shoot, we could
walk everywhere anyway and we could always borrow one if we had to. And so it was that this young girl who
thought she had it all figured out, began to learn to wait.
I have always
considered myself to be patient, calm under stress, and able to take control
whenever I needed to. It comes with the
territory when you become a Mom. But
learning to keep a meal hot without cooking the peas until they turn to bullets
waiting for your husband to come home from work until 10:00 pm, isn’t explained
in the marriage manual, or the cookbook. You feed the children, but you wait. Instructions to set up a new kitchen in an
unfamiliar house isn’t included in the lease, nor is meeting new friends when
you’re the new kid on the block. New
schools, new church, new home, new city.
But wait, we’ll get used to
it. Piece of cake. Consider waiting
until the zero hour to leave the house with children for an appointment
somewhere important and having to explain that Daddy had to work late again and
couldn’t get home in time to go. Ponder
the disappointment in their faces.
What about all the times when you’re expected
at someone’s house for dinner, a meeting, church, or a special occasion, and you’re all dressed
and ready to go, but the time just slipped away and now you’re going to arrive
late because you have to wait . Time slipped away at work. How
about a much-needed vacation that had been planned and payed for, but only part
of the family spends a week at the beach cottage? “But, it’s a huge project. A big client.
A big snafu has come up and I should be there now! Not next week!” And so, it goes. Year after year after year. Move after move. Job after job.
And then there
are two. No more worrying about schools,
football games, baseball games, commitments, or smoothing the hurt for
opportunities lost and promises not kept. Time to get on with
life as an empty nester. But, on the
plus side, you have all the family time (if there is any) just for
yourself. Wow! Think impromptu mini trips, meeting up for
drinks and dinner after work, and lazy Sunday mornings with coffee and pancakes
together. You plan a secret trip to the
mountains, throw toothbrushes, pajamas and robes, and a change of underwear in
a small bag and sit waiting. Something about having a break down at
the last minute and it had to be taken care of before leaving work. So, you’re finally off, three hours late to
check in the resort. You wanted to sit outside in the moonlight overlooking the
Peaks of Otter but instead, simply crashed, exhausted from the two-hour drive
and tense conversation.
There are
innumerable times of driving like maniacs to get wherever it is you’re supposed
to be a 6:00 PM because you didn’t leave home until 5:45 PM to make a 45-minute
drive. Countless times meals were
overcooked and you finally decide to eat alone and go to bed. Waiting. “I’m coming home early today”! “Next week-end I’ll be off work and I’ll help
you with that garden.” “I’ll be home next week-end!”
Retirement
comes. Eventually, there is a presence
at home. Boredom sets in. Old habits of needing to have a challenge set
in and part time jobs become full time jobs and back to retirement again. Home is a place to come when you’ve run out
of something to do somewhere else. The
garage and outbuildings become a sanctuary for old cars and various projects
left unfinished through the years. Meals
are prepared, announced, and eaten alone. Friends or neighbors have a need for some odd
job and time is lost to them. Health issues
take a toll and energy level and ambition are gone. Death comes.
Now, life is like an abyss leading to an unknown place. Life decisions are made with great
uncertainty. There are no plans. There’s
no going back. I have learned how to wait.
