It does not make sense that I should feel the way I do about this situation. I know me. The me I have been all these years would be furious that I had waited for thirty years, only to see the thing I’ve been waiting for that whole time and be told I have to wait even longer? Indefinitely? Oh, I’d be madder than a hornet. I would be snapping about more years the locusts are taking and ridiculous timing and ludicrous cosmic plans. I should not be curled up with such joyful anticipation, smiling secretly all day long, sleeping with such ease. I should be weighted down with pressure, not with peace.
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But I know what it is I’m waiting for. I am not just waiting for the man of my dreams, which would be reason enough for me, but rather I am waiting for his freedom, for him to see with unscaled eyes his worth, to accept his inalienable identity in this God who formed him with such care. I am waiting for a completely changed life, I am waiting to feel the rust on the broken chains with my own fingers. Oh, I know what I’m waiting for.
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How privileged and humbled I am that this great God has called me his friend. And because I am his friend, because I am joint heir with Christ himself, I can know my Master’s business. He has made known to me some of the inner workings of his awesome plan. No one else knows the things his Spirit has whispered to me in my deep heart and through his perfect Word. That I should know what he plans for these people I love so and give me a role to play, let me help in a real way, just astounds me. He truly is an awesome God, isn’t he?
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And, too, I get what the old me would have gone in circles around, never reaching it. I had to wait so long in order to see B___ for what he was, to know myself well enough to see how he reflected me, and I had to break that long wait toward the end of it by seeing the tantalizing prize for which I had been dreaming before it was snatched away because I had this work to do. I would have once upon a time said, “What, you couldn’t get him ready for me before bringing him to me? Jeez, haven’t you done this before?” But he needed to find me before he started on this last leg of his journey. He couldn’t have made it on his own. He needed his ezer kenegdo, his lifesaver, to fight for him, to stand for him, or he’d never make it through the hardest time he’s faced yet in his struggle for his identity.
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This old me would have answered the tired old question, “Would you wait a lifetime for him?” with, “Uh, no. I’ve waited long enough.” But no, I cannot answer that way anymore. If I had to wait another thirty years for him, give up my youth and my beloved children in the fight, I would. Without reservation or impatience. With joy and peace and gratitude for all that would be gained in the wait. How? How on earth could I say such a thing?
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Because I know his worth.
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