This Place of Waiting

One of my favorite Dr. Seuss book's is called "Oh the Places You'll Go."  And right now I'm in what he would call, "the waiting place."  I have to disagree with Theo Geisel in one thing - that the waiting place is not "useless" as he said but rather rich and full of opportunities for growth.  Like a seed in the ground that is surrounded by dirt and fertilizer and dark.  I know that I'm a product of my culture and just want to move on from this place.  I think that I can and should always be able to make things happen and I'm uncomfortable finding out that I really cannot.  And that is a gift all in and of itself.

Thankfully I've been in waiting places before and God has used the time to heal and speak to me.  He reminds me that this place is pregnant with possibilities if I'll only quit struggling with my insecurities and imperfections.  If I'll take the time to really listen and observe and surrender to His grace and quit trying to earn His approval.  If I'll take each moment as a gift and not try to control it.  I'll admit that this is not my first inclination but oh so healing when I do.

Mom, Dad and I are in this waiting place together (along with the rest of the family but we are especially impacted by it.)  I don't want to rush this but I do find it uncomfortable.  I sometimes think I just want to know how long this will go on and then I realize what a gift it is not to know.  It forces me to live in the present and not focus on a specific moment in time marching upon us.  It makes each moment a gift, for it is the only one we have.

Mom has been eating a bit more and seems to really enjoy it so this could go on for quite awhile.  Visitors have been good for her and she's more responsive than she was a week ago.  I have to keep discovering that this journey has many twists and turns and is not predictable.  Mom has many hours of peace and relaxation punctuated by times of extreme agitation and fear.  I never know when they'll happen but often it's at night.  I'm so grateful for lorazepam - the drug that hospice has given me to calm her.  Lately it's been a bit harder to calm her enough to let the pill dissolve under her tongue but a calm voice and prayer spoken aloud helps all of us.  Dad tends to look on with bewilderment and I'm so impressed with his ability to stay present with her when she is out of her mind.  Together we try to surround her with love.  This is taking a toll on him but it's where he wants to be.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and more family will be here to celebrate and spend time with her.  She seems to be looking forward to it as long as I remind her that she doesn't have to do anything - just let us know what she does or doesn't want.  She perks up so much for visitors - I'm grateful for that. I continue to be grateful for the prayer and support that is holding us up.  And I'm letting go in this place of waiting.  Trust, wait and let go.  Wait, let go and trust.  Let go, trust and wait.  It's all grace.