My child was napping soundly approximately 30 minutes ago.
He is now in my backseat speaking some dialect of baby gibberish I wish I understood because it sounds VERY dramatic. While I love his baby gibberish, let’s rewind to said: nap…
This elusive nap was supposed to bridge us from point A, our home, to point B, a quaint La Jolla beach house my family rented for the weekend. This nap was supposed to allow us some uninteruppted time to reconnect and talk as adults before this nap was over…
As with many well thought out plans, this nap did not comply.
So I find myself waiting in a parking lot overlooking the Pacific Ocean…waiting.
Waiting for that nap to kick in.
Waiting for the frustration to melt away.
Waiting for energy to improvise.
And then I look up to find the vast ocean waiting for me.
Waiting for me to stop and simply observe.
Waiting for me to take in the peaceful serenity it freely offers.
Waiting for me to simply let go and be.
As I prepare to drive back to the beach house (with a, now, sleeping baby in the back) my heart feels fuller than when I left. The weight of frustration has been replaced by this blessed wait for rest…not only for my son, but for my spirit.
Resting in the waiting is a creative habit I hope to cultivate. It has certainly been freeing this afternoon.
Whatever you may be waiting for, may you too find rest as you wait.