Anticipatience

It's six in the morning and I've already been up for a good hour. This is going to be one of those days when the phone is close to your side all day, when you move the kleenex box with you from room to room, and meal times come and go without your stomach even growling. It's a weekend wrought with emotion and eager to keep life moving into a new week that will bring blessings and trials of its own. In the present, however, I'm forced to live minute to minute and embrace the reality that one life I love is nearing its end on this earth, while another is on its way. My grandmother, my sweet Grammy, is in severely failing health. They've "called in the family" so to speak, and we all feel the presence of Christ drawing nearer and nearer. Meanwhile, my baby girl kicks in my belly, her due date only a few days away, and constantly reminding me why I need to be here and not on a plane to Kansas. I never suspected these dramatic life events would coincide, and it seems all too eerie and beautiful to be happening right now.

While we wait in this limbo, I can't help but coin a new term for what I'm feeling: Anticipatience. It doesn't need much definition. It feels like a bit of an oxymoron, being anxious about all things out of your own control. There is a lot of freedom in knowing you can't do anything about either situation, and yet, something so indescribably frustrating, something so natural yet inhuman to just be still and watch life come and go, literally. It gives a whole new light to "hurry up and wait". So, I sit here in anticipatience, trusting God and His perfect calendar.

Life is short. We all know this. We eternal souls in temporal bodies feel it most when confronted with circumstances such as this, (though rarely at the very same time). How do you sum up a person's life in a silly blog post? You don't. I won't even try. And quite frankly, I'm all cried out at the moment and it is all I can bear to just focus on making complete sentences. Let's just say my Grammy is extremely special to me. She makes the most beautiful quilts you've ever seen and absolutely hands down the best most ultimate lemon meringue pie in the universe. Her domestic talents are only exceeded by her spiritual gifts - her love of Jesus and the ability to worship Him through music playing the organ and piano like it is second nature (and truly I think it is). It weighs heavily on my heart to imagine this might be one of the last times I speak about her in the present tense. I love her. And while I know I should be envious of her drawing closer to meeting Jesus, I can't help but feel jealous of Jesus getting to see her before I do. I miss her.

While my heart is in Kansas, however, my ginormously pregnant body remains in California. The anticipatience I feel for my own baby grows steadily with each moment, each waddle, each flicker of a contraction. I want to meet her, I want to know her, and I want to start teaching her how to make the best lemon meringue pie in the universe as soon as possible. God is so good. I know this full well. I'm, once again, pretending to "hand over" what is actually already in His control and allow Him to usher in each minute with new mercies. Thank you, God, for keeping focus on our hearts as our hearts so easily lose focus of You. Thank you for my Grammy. Thank you for my daughter. Thank you for the certainty that no matter what, we celebrate life. If you ask me, that's worth the wait.