The Waiting Place

Dr. Seuss would have had his birthday this week. There's one passage from his book "Oh The Places You'll Go" that I find myself coming back to whenever I feel stuck. It goes like this: "and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place. The Waiting Place...for people just waiting. Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or a No. Or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting. Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting." I fear I've been waiting too much of late--waiting for winter to end, waiting to find a house and to build a new life therein with Matt being among the big ones. Yet I keep reminding myself of this passage, keep telling myself that the right things will happen at the right time. And then I think of that line from the movie "Shawshank Redemption"--the one that goes "you can get busy living, or get busy dying." And too, I think about my buddy Tim and his trademark phrase "or not". To be stuck waiting is to be unconnected to each moment that shapes a day, is to miss out on potential, is to escape presence. Some things, especially those that are close to our hearts, are hard not to wait for. My friend Amy who spent the last several months as a nurse for our troops in Afghanistan just landed on US soil last night. How could her parents not have been held in wait for her return? I imagine their breath is more full now. But the thing is, she has returned. The robins have returned so I know that spring is not far off. This house I am in now will sell and some new place will become available. I'll plant seeds. Plants will grow. It's all happening. It's all eventual.