where waves grow sweet

Is it cheating if I using assignments from my writing workshop as blog posts?? I didn’t follow the instructions anyway, since it was supposed to be a short 1-2 paragraph story about a photo. Oops. Got a little carried away. Anyway, here it is…

Celeste, the sheepdog

A litter of puppies is growing in the belly of this dog, one of which will become part of our family. After years of waiting for the right time and months of research, we gave a deposit to a breeder in the hope of a future litter, waiting on something we couldn’t control. With excitement, we learned of this future mama’s successful pregnancy and now have a timeline. But it is early and there is still much waiting to be done… several weeks until she gives birth, several more until we know which one will be ours and more time yet until we bring him home. 

For an instant gratification girl living in an instant gratification world, waiting has never been something I’ve valued and certainly not enjoyed. But I’m learning the richness of anticipation and the satisfaction that comes as a result. A hunger quickly sated with something easy is never savored in the same way as one that has been made to wait while teased with the hissing of onions in the pan; the intoxicating fragrances of meat bathing in its juices, escaping from the oven, taunting the senses; the sound of knives in their rhythm of chopping, of pots and pans clanging, of plates knocking against each other as they are pulled from the cupboard. It is through this time of expectant waiting that desire becomes ready to be deeply satisfied.

It is with this expectancy, having done all I can to prepare for our puppy, that I wait. Just as I did for 16 years before an incredible man arrived on my scene, and as I did for a year before our wedding date. Just as I did during nine months of my two pregnancies, desperately wanting to hold and know my babies right away, but watching my love and desire grow bigger than my belly until my waiting was rewarded with their warm, wiggling bodies in my arms and their sweet, goat-like cries in my ears. It is with this same expectancy that I wait to see my older son again, wanting so much to be with him now; to hold him here. But there is something growing in the anticipation, as love rumbles with hungry desire and sweet memories tease my senses, that will make our reunion in heaven more richly satisfying than any we could have had more immediately here. So I will embrace this time between, trusting in its value, waiting in expectancy for its fulfillment, when I hold my boy again. This time, I don’t anticipate infant cries from a wiggling body, but contagious laughter from his gentle presence as those smiling eyes light up the sky. It will be so worth the wait as my desire is overwhelmingly satisfied.