But then I think about the sticky fingers of humid Charlotte air, the sticky wheels on a rolling suitcase, and the sticky perspiration on the face of a very nervous 20-something-year-old as she stands on the curb, eyes peeled and waiting to see something she's waited for such a long time.
I think about a big old white van driven by a strange boy with a tuft of fluff for hair (which neither of his parents understand). I think about seeing him... see her... for the first time in months.
Maybe you can think of something, too.
I think about joyous revelry upon seeing each other again and melancholy journeys which returned someone to an airport, where someone would take the march among other wanderers to board yet another plane, to once again become a blot on the skyline.
Once upon a time, I begged and pleaded with God to keep me from getting married. And then, I begged and pleaded to end the distance between me and a boy I should never have even met. And now, I find myself begging and pleading once again to answer some of the big questions in my heart as my home is with Jacob but our home is yet to be created.
I find myself looking and finding everyone else's story to be so pleasant and glorious during a time I never expected myself to be in- because even though I am not among the wanderers waiting to board a plane destined for the skyline, I am still wandering. Oh, for the dull parts in our lives. The parts where we are just waiting and waiting for the thrill and answers.
I believe books ought to have all the dull parts chopped right out. Yet, the dull parts are the parts that develop the story. The dull parts are the parts that highlight the spectacular glitter and sensation of the thrilling parts.
And unlike books where the dull parts are set in stone, you have the chance to write these moments and influence them. I have the chance to do that. We all do.
No, we don't have the ability to morph the dull parts into the thrilling parts, but we do have the chance to make them something to look back on with a sense of pride. We have a chance to make them something both glorifying to God and something worth telling again.
I think about a girl scrunched up in a ball on attic stairs built in the 1920's, asking that boy and asking God why God let her feel so alone and stuck waiting for answers.
But it was just a dull part. It was just the development needed for the thrill of a summer full of adventures and a spring soon to arrive that promised a proposal and acceptance of all things beautiful.
Maybe you're in a dull part, waiting for development, too. Maybe you feel a bit like it's never going to end. But oh dear me, this is your story. God gives you the draft and outline. You write. Hold the pen and choose carefully how you embellish each part while you are in the moment.
Be grateful for the good, patient in the difficult, and laughing through the unexpected. It goes by quickly and it is all so, so good.
If you cannot think of anything else during your waiting, remember that :)
