where waves grow sweet

As Chase was working on photo ornaments of the kids with me, he noticed my falling tears and asked what was wrong. When I explained that I miss Cole, he responded with a very childlike “Still???” His innocence drew a smile, but when the reality of my hurt registered in that precious heart, he hopped off his chair and ran over to me, holding me tightly, patting my back and saying repeatedly, “It’s going to be okay.” The comfort that little boy brought was palpable. As was that of the Holy Spirit who, once again, spoke into my hurt and longing.

Are you familiar with the study done ages ago with children and marshmallows – one now or two later? If I’d been part of that study, I would have thought, “What kind of stupid question is that?” I mean, clearly, you get your grubby hands on that one marshmallow and shove it in your mouth before the question has even died on their lips.

I’ve always been an instant gratification kind of girl. If there was money in my pocket, I’d spend it on the cheap, immediate (and usually edible) thing – very unlike my two-marshmallow brother who diligently saved for meaningful, lasting things like a surfboard, instruments and a car. If I felt fidgety with a job, I quit within the week. If there was pain, I would numb it ASAP rather than tackling the arduous task of dealing with it because, my goodness, who has the patience for that?

A more recent example was the time my unfulfilled desire for another child expressed itself in the “need” for a dog that resulted in the purchase – that selfsame day – of the first cute puppy I saw on Craigslist (of unknown breed from people who didn’t speak a word of English and wouldn’t let me near the mama dog), much to the bewilderment of my double-marshmallow husband. It was certainly the most adorable of my impulsive choices and allowed me once again that unique experience of gratification and regret in the same moment.

But I’ve been changing, bit by bit over the years, because trust does that. It brings rest to the restless parts of us that can’t be still. It calms the fear that our needs won’t be met or that our wants will go unfulfilled. It recognizes that there is an abundance of all that we’ve ever yearned for. But it can’t be accessed through the impulsive ways we’ve grasped at with our grubby hands, which only serve to tickle a deep itch, taint our gratification with regret and withhold what is most meaningful and lasting. It is through trust in this One who created our hearts and knows how and when each need and want will be truly satisfied that we learn to wait… in perfect peace… with the expectation that we will be given gifts of perfect time and design that impart the fulfillment we seek. And we are also satisfied in the waiting, when we align ourselves with Him in trust, because His very presence calms and fills us.

This is the reminder the Holy Spirit gave me after Chase comforted me that day. I have learned to trust and I have learned to wait, not just in general but specifically regarding Cole. So I can once again step into the same patient anticipation I experienced when Cole left for the Navy. It might be a little longer until I see him this time, but it will satisfy my heart so completely that the wait will seem insignificant. And, lucky for me, God imparts impossible grace in the waiting – like the incomprehensible peace that descended on me that day and changed the whole atmosphere of my heart. Because trust can’t help but swing the door wide open to the Giver of every good and perfect gift.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17

But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. Romans 8:25