Monday, July 23, 2012


I can’t remember when I put the folded piece of paper in my wallet. I’d say probably four years ago if I had to guess. At the time I was looking for a lifeline, something to hold on to, to inspire me. I didn’t read it every day, sometimes forgot about it, but always read it just when I needed a reminder. I was in the midst of waiting, waiting for what or who, I wasn’t sure, but I certainly knew I was waiting for something. And I really did not want to be waiting.
Somehow, I find myself taking the soft, worn piece of paper out of my wallet today, greeting it like a friend, yet knowing that I will retire it to a drawer in my desk. My heart, my body, my mind, can vividly recall grasping it tightly in moments, tears spilling over, willing the words to be true and right. And I can see now that even then, I knew that what I was waiting for would work out perfectly. That everything, even in waiting and longing, was just fine. 
“Whatever the particulars, we should feel the ground beneath us and observe the space around us. And remember to breathe.*”  Now it seems that waiting is no longer waiting for something to happen or something in the future. It’s right now, feeling the floor beneath my feet and my breath moving in and out. It’s in this world that I live in now, where my sweet boy is sleeping, content in his crib, and I get to be his momma. It’s in this in between space, where we are savoring each and every moment, grateful for everything that brought us here, looking forward to the future, but mainly, wanting to live so fully right in this present.

*quote from Sharon Salzberg-original article, Are You Waiting, currently unavailable online.