… For the flight to Manchester that will leads to a train to Sheffield and then a weekend of meeting S.’s folk…. Then the Wait, actively I suppose, for time and life to work its magic and meld these two journeys — separate, distinct but converging — into a coherent whole… #Hopeful
Over the weekend, after one of those marathon conversations with S which grew arms and legs, segueing from work related issues into past loves and twin boy names, I caught myself wondering what all this was. Whilst I have gone out of my way to declare my intentions, I have neither had a yay or a nay back; she and I continuing to subsist in this fluid space where we are more than friends but without any labels to attach. Whilst the feeling is one of a strong mutual connection, part of me does ponder the why’s of the lack of black and white commitment to date… ...
From today’s John Piper Devo: Have you ever wondered what God is doing while you are looking in the wrong place for something you lost and needed very badly? He knows exactly where it is, and he is letting you look in the wrong place…. And your agonizing, unplanned detour is not a waste — not if you look to the Lord for his unexpected work, and do what you must do in his name (Colossians 3:17). The Lord works for those who wait for him (Isaiah 64:4). ...
Surely I am not alone in thinking that sometimes waiting in an airport with far too much time on one’s hand can often be the most stark reminder of aloneness…
A year ago if you asked me how good I was with waiting, I suspect without giving it much thought I would have gone for somewhere between 9 and 9.5 on a scale of 1 to 10. What I am finding out to my chagrin, prompted by a few events and a conversation with my friend M (in which I get the blame for the unravelling of a certain situation) is that I suck at this waiting business. ...
[gallery] The much threatened snow storm finally hit, and when it did it was an anti-climax of sorts. Rather than the promised chaos and long tail backs, there were only mild disruptions at most. I suspect the winter has a lot more sting in its tail, but its first salvo has been under-whelming at worst. Given the town’s penchant for gory, frightful winters, I’ll take under-whelming any time. One evening, I am standing just inside the doors at Union Square – earphones plugged in with The Script on repeat, hands in my coat pockets and looking out - as the maelstrom of humanity just belched out by the 18:17 train from Dyce sweeps by. I am usually at home by this time - heaters fired up, warm drink in hand, catching up on re-runs of NCIS - but I am out today waiting to pick up a friend whose train should have arrived a few minutes earlier. He and I haven’t met up in at least three years - I suspect it’s probably more - even though we have kept in touch via email and the odd phone call here and there. He has been holidaying, taking in the sights of Europe and gate crashing one party too many whilst checking yet more places off his places-to-see-before-I-die list. A chance conversation a couple of weeks before helped make up his mind to toss in a sleep over at mine – the final pit stop before the train that is his holiday hurtles on to Nigeria and a return to the drudgery of work. A quick glance at the arrivals board at the station alerts me to the unfortunate fact that his train has been delayed by a further fifteen minutes. ...
The evening breeze, cooled by the frigid NorthSea never fails to welcome me to this place. Nonedescript, marked only by a pole and a small 4x4 plaque, it can seem like Oya or her Viking consort Njord chose to channel their chilling breath through this spot. For 40 days now, I have had to endure the icy chill the wind brings. Sometimes it can feel like the wind reaches out an icy claw and grabs the heart, as though it would yank it out and leave me for dead. ...
The bad part of waiting is the uncertainty - the vacillation between extreme positions, the rehashing of the entire sequence of events in the mind seeking clues as to how it went - and the undoubted clarity that hindsight often brings along with all the could-haves and should-haves that tag along. I am waiting, have been waiting since a couple of days ago, for a response from the chaps I spoke to. I thought we had fruitful discussions, answered all the questions they asked, and chipped in with a few myself to ensure their expectations for the proposed role matched mine. Now, its time for the wait, while they decide if we are a match enough to progress to the next stage. Fingers crossed, done my bit now, all I can do is wait…… and hope……