Waiting Area E

Yesterday seemed like a day full of waiting. Have you ever had one of those days? It seems like you get every red light even when there are only four, every long line stuck behind the avid price-matcher, every chatty and slow moving cashier, every person actually driving the speed limit, and right now, every major intersection seems to have a massive construction project happening. That was my yesterday.

Then there was the almost three hour wait at Prism Eye Institute where my son and I sat in Waiting Area E only to find out he didn’t need the procedure he took the day off work for and we had driven all the way there for. 

The whole day felt like waiting.

While sitting in Waiting Area E, I could sense the frustration settling in at about the 2 hour mark. My son had had 2 sets of eye drops, his pupils pushing out the deep brown of each iris in preparation for the doctor to look at his retina with an excruciatingly bright light. We muttered to each other, wondering if they had forgotten us. It seemed as if all the people in Waiting Area E, as well as in neighbouring Areas D & F, had left. The once crowded space was now almost eerily spacious and it just felt...weird.

As I sat there, I was reminded of a couple of things. Not to make this a political post, but the first picture that went through my mind as my legs and back began to ache from sitting in an uncomfortable chair, my feet just barely able to touch the floor, was the multitude of men, women and children waiting at various border crossings. These humans are not waiting three hours for an eye fix, they are waiting days, weeks, months for a life fix. That was a deeply humbling reminder right there in my own Waiting Area E.

The second thing was the reminder about something I had just talked with friends about the night before. This was the practice to “be where you are" which Emily P. Freeman spends a chapter on in her book, The Next Right Thing. So I decided to be exactly where I am. I remained in my (uncomfortable) chair, put my head back on the wall, closed my eyes and listened. I just listened to where I was. Suddenly, I could hear all the quiet noises in the little rooms around me. I could hear the moving and shuffling and muttering that is the heartbeat of this office. I could hear the people doing their things, the doctors quietly opening and closing doors, a phone ringing in the distance, the click-click-click of a keyboard somewhere. Everywhere around me was life - movement and motion that kept it all going.

In that moment this waiting space became sacred space. Maybe no one else knew it, but God entered Waiting Area E yesterday afternoon. He sat down beside me. His presence pervaded my waiting and changed my perspective. His presence blew patience and humility into my soul as He ushered grace and mercy - and peace - into my waiting space. Grace for myself, my son, for our 2 other waiting companions, and for those we waited on.

Waiting isn't always easy. But when we wait with patience and grace we give God the space to be present. His presence can do a multitude of things, including changing our perspective as we quiet our souls to listen for Him. A quiet soul paves the way to knowing more of God; being still precedes the knowing. It causes us to stop and be quiet, to listen and to drink deep of the good graces and soft whispers that are offered to us in that quiet place of our souls when we pause and wait long enough to hear Him. 

Even if your physical waiting space is not quiet, invite God to join you there. Have Him pervade your waiting space and make it a sacred space, as only He can.

"Wait on the Lord. 

Be courageous, and he will strengthen your heart. 

Wait on the Lord." 

{Psalm 27:14}

Who Is In Your Mom Tribe?

Last weekend I participated in one of the many mom-rituals that happen this time of year - I dropped off my boys to summer camp. For a little more than a decade of summers, we have been packing the suitcases with shorts and shirts and bathing suits and Bibles and journals and bug spray and sunscreen. Don't forget the hats, sleeping bags and pillows, baseball gloves and frisbees, bug nets, towels, and extra socks, most of which return unworn but still needing to be washed.

Pioneer Camp holds a special place in our hearts. This picture is a few years old,
but the sentiment is the same.

As I was waiting in line to register my 16 year old for the Leaders In Training program, I looked across the room. I saw familiar faces in the crowd. But these weren't just any faces. 

They were faces of mom-friends that I have loved over the years, and they were faces of boys-becoming-men that I watched grow up. These faces that were once pudgy and pink and ice cream covered running around my backyard, are now on the brink of manhood, standing tall and towering over their mothers, shaking peoples hands, their once-loved (hated?) bucket hat replaced by a much cooler ball cap.

In some ways time is a thief, stealing away all that once was, to be locked in the treasure chest of yesteryear. As I watched these boys, I could still see glimpses of who they used to be, and I could barely stop the stream of memories that paraded through my mind - memories of birthday parties and play dates and church picnics and hockey arenas and backyards and school yards. Those were good days and a part of me wanted them back.

But in many ways time is also a gift. Time is what helps us see change and growth, through both joy and pain. As I looked across that room, it was the gift of time that allowed me to love and appreciate these women, these boys. It was time that I spent with them and it was the time that I had, more recently, spent apart from them. 

These women were - and continue to be - part of my Mom Tribe. These are the women who drank a lot of coffee while chasing our kids around backyards, basements and playgrounds. These are the women who served a plethora of grilled cheese sandwiches, chicken fingers & smiley face fries, hotdogs, and mac'n'cheese, with just enough cucumbers and carrots to pass the veggie test, at countless midday lunches. These are the women who sat patiently through the tears, who doubled over in deep laughter, who cheered the loudest when he was *finally* potty trained, and who prayed the hardest through fevers, broken bones, and temper tantrums. These are the women who provided wisdom and grace, patience and perseverance, courage and confidence to run the race of motherhood and continue to do so as we mother our kids through the teenage years and beyond.

These are the women I entered motherhood with, went through motherhood with, and am still walking motherhood with. 

These are the women that helped shape me as a Mom because let's face it, we all enter motherhood having no idea what we are doing! This Mom Tribe that I found myself a part of, we all learned this motherhood thing together. And while I saw just a few faces in the crowd last weekend, there are many, many more that I would consider to be part of this Tribe. Some for a long time, some for a short time, but all impacting me, shaping me, inspiring me to be a better Mom to my boys.

Many others have joined my Tribe along the way. Different seasons bring different people and with them come much needed wisdom and discernment. I am thankful for each and every women who has shared wise knowledge and spoken hard truth and provided unconditional love along the journey. I am thankful for those who have gone before me and have shared their wisdom and resources, and I am thankful for those who are coming behind me, who are seeking to raise their kids to be Christ-followers in our world. I am thankful for those friends who loved on my kids even when they did not have kids of their own.

Who is in your Tribe? 

Who was there at the beginning? Who is there now? It's summertime and we all have a little more breathing room. Maybe it is a good time to thank your Mom Tribe and to acknowledge the good graces that have come into your mothering because of them.

Who would you like to have as part of your Tribe? Someone who has gone through your season and can provide insight, knowledge, creativity and grace into your current place. Spend some time thinking about who could add to your Tribe this way.

Motherhood is not something any of us can do on our own. It takes a village, yes. But more than that it takes a community. It takes a Tribe of women that are in your corner through thick and thin, who will cheer the loudest and pray the hardest because when it comes right down to it, they love your kids too. 

Let time be a gift to you - and your kids - today. 

"I thank my God every time I remember you" 

{Phil 1:3}