Tag Archives: waiting on God

Asking Coldplay’s Question, “How Long Must I Wait?”

4 Dec

Jesus in a Manger Luke 2:7

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.

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

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? 

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Chance or Community Chest? My January Monopoly Game

1 Feb

Do you ever feel like your life is like Monopoly? I’ve felt like that lately, especially with regards to the “Chance” cards and the “Community Chest” cards.  My life is unfolding with unexpected surprises lately. Good and bad. But surprises all the same!

I can see myself drawing these cards after rolling the dice:

“Your car overheated unexpectedly on the way back from a job.  Pay $200 for a tow and a new radiator hose.”

“You just made a final payment on a credit card! Move ahead three spaces.”

“Unexpected sinus infection.   Stay home for a day to recuperate.”

“Your body responded better to the three mile run than you thought! Move ahead one space.”

“You neglected to listen to this verse that kept coming up and then Facebook stalking got the best of you. Lose several days dwelling in the land of Sadville.”

“After calling the Credit Union, you discover you made your last loan payment without knowing it! Collect $150.”

“Your friends decide they will be returning after a long trip away. Move ahead 4 spaces.”

“You read a life changing book that helps you not want to settle for less than an adventurous life. Move ahead five spaces.”

“The doctor tells you that you need to take medicine for the rest of your life.  Move back 10 spaces and lose a turn.”

“A session with a pastor leads to renewing of your connection with God. Move ahead 8 spaces.”

“A new plant-based diet gives you more energy and hope than you thought about a medical condition. Move ahead 5 spaces.”

“You put yourself out there and finally wrote something you made public. Move ahead 3 spaces.”

“A new job possibility doesn’t pan out after all. Stay where you are for one more week.”

“Fear of disappointment gets the better of you. Stay home on a Saturday night.”

“You spent some much needed time in silence and solitude. Move ahead 3 spaces.”

“An amazing new idea comes to you that could be a welcome change. Move ahead  3 spaces (for now).”

“Sacrificial love in community became real to you in a new way. Move ahead, move backward, stay put, hide under the covers, then thank God and for heaven’s sake, stop allowing awkwardness to get the best of you.”

And that was all in January.  A lot happened.  I became more aware.  I made a lot of really good decisions. At some level, life just started happening differently. But maybe it was because I wanted it to.  And in February, I will continue to be aware. I will continue to pay attention. I will not let life just pass me by. I will risk. I will fail and it won’t be that bad. Because in the midst of that, I will also succeed. Things will be different this year.  And here comes February!

Facing My Desert Place

20 Jul

A reminder to myself that this too is also a desert. I took this in Arizona in Nov 2005

We all have seasons when we’re in the desert and little makes sense. Even Robert Frost, who I just found out wrote a poem funnily enough that he entitled “Desert Places.” (I wrote mine below before knowing about his). We ask questions. Why is this taking so long? Why do I keep hitting a wall? What’s wrong with me? These are common thoughts I usually face when I’m in a desert season. This last time, I decided to write a poem about it so that I could clear my head. As I wrote, I prayed that God would give me peace and help me to sort out all of the emotions that were coming at me at once. What I wrote is below. Writing is like therapy or a good long run after a bad day. And here it is:

Desert Place

The desert place is dry and cracked,

Caked like wet cornmeal clumped.

 

The desert place is lonely and wide,

The end of a sad movie that makes no sense,

But percolates in my mind for days.

 

The desert place is deep and real,

Echoing toward the conclusion of a stretching season.

 

It’s vast and hot, brown and red.

Every step is trudging,

My mind is ever judging who I am, who I will be, how I will live through.

 

The desert place has questions unanswered, fears unfaced, stones unturned.

I stay awake there, wondering if my parched mouth will taste water soon.

 

The desert place is angry.

It’s long like war, frustraiting like traffic, and painful like an unhealed heart.

 

I wait there. In that desert place. My feelings fail, for they are too intense and the tears come quickly, shooting down my cheeks, carving hot paths before dropping off the cliff of my chin toward oblivion and for what?

My eyes close so that I can remember what it’s supposed to feel like to trust. I go back to those altars that I once made so that I wouldn’t forget. For times like this where I must sit and wait and bear it. Tomorrow may be more blazing heat. But I can hope for rain.

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