It’s the season of waiting. Advent. Waiting for Jesus to come and dwell with us.
And I’m not going to lie, part of me is a little bit perturbed.
For the past almost 8 months, I thought that once I got married, the whole waiting thing would be over. I’ve been single for years, waiting for the day when I could wake up next to my husband. When I met Mark and we got engaged and I figured out he was actually going to be my husband, I waited until we could be in the same city. I waited until my job could be done so that I could plan my wedding. I waited until my wedding day with much anticipation. I waited for marriage until we were able to consumate it. By the time I thought all of the waiting was all over, I breathed a sigh of relief and settled into a few weeks of wedded bliss I was through waiting. For good. Or so I thought…
Illustrating the fun part of marriage.
The honeymoon is done, the dress is back from the cleaners and we’ve settled into the life you would expect for newlyweds as they learn to be husband and wife. The big smiles we exchange when he gets home from work. The nights spent cuddling on the couch watching “Sherlock.” The date nights. Getting our first Christmas tree together. And some of the not so fun things…the burnt meals as I learn how to use stainless steel pots and pans and our weird electric no-burner oven. The sleepless nights of “I’m cold, can you give me some blankets?” and Mark’s restless legs which wake him up around 3 or 4 which means I wake up at 3 or 4. The harsh words we sometimes exchange when one of us is too tired or too hungry or when we just need a way to accept all of this transition but don’t know how to tell one another.
It’s all a lot of newness and as I learn how to be a wife, I’m still waiting.
What for?
Well for one, I’m waiting for my driver’s license with my new name to arrive.
I’m waiting for someone to call me back for an interview after I’ve submitted my millionth resume.
I’m waiting for friendships to blossom.
I’m waiting to fully settle into a church.
I’m waiting to get used to the silence in my apartment that is not accompanied by the strangely comforting helicopters on police searches, the techno music blaring through the floor below… (although now we have a pitter patter of a dog’s feet most days and every other Sunday a child who likes to pretend our ceiling is a trampoline while her parents are…where are they?!) I’m waiting for them to repremand her.
I’m waiting to figure out who I am apart from Melissa Mills. So I bought a website. MelissaBlakey.com. I’m going to be transferring my blog over there soon. I’ve been writing pages daily just to write because Melissa Blakey is a writer, a wife, and while she’s not employed currently, she’s wrestling through the waiting period known as transition. It happens to coincide beautifully with Advent. Sometimes I think God has a funny sense of humor and he proves points to me constantly with it.
It’s like He’s saying, “Melissa, I’m still God even when you have to wait.”
And so, I wait. I’m not always happy about it.
Some days, I’m really down about the waiting.
But I’m trusting that the God who once made it possible that I would miraculously win a claim for $4000 with my dental insurance will show up.
Me, at 7
I’m hoping that He who saved my life at age 7 when I had a kidney problem will not let me down.
I’m here. Grateful for my husband, my life in San Diego, the friends I still have in LA, the friends I soon will have here.
I’m believing that God will come through:
“I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope.” -Psalm 130:5
What about you? What do you find yourself waiting for this season?
Where My Heart Wants To Go 