Susan LaffertyMy earliest memory of waiting? “Wait a minute. Just hold your horses.”
And the minute is never a minute.
From childhood I push for immediate fulfillment of desires. Quick resolution of problems and struggles. Longing for what’s just out of my reach. The future.
I want it now.
So I hurry up! And wait.
We walk. Blue-skied afternoon. Fallen leaves swirling on the path. Picked up and scattered by the wind.
An after-Thanksgiving-dinner tradition, this walk takes us through shade and cold. To places in the sun. Beside the lake. Where water moves, reflecting rays.
Conversations and laughter accompany this walk. As we breathe cool air in the shifting light.
The evidence of God’s creation and Presence is all around us on that restful stroll through the neighborhood. And I think about the ways God speaks. Breathes. And moves.
Legacy, unintentional.
From the least likely.
A poor widow
unnamed
obscure
hidden
in the shadows
of wealthy patrons.
Slipping in
behind
crowds and
considerable contributions
at the temple coffers.
