When my sisters and I were younger, my parents would bring out an egg timer from the kitchen and place it on the counter every Christmas morning before we opened presents.

We would groan and roll our eyes as we knew what it meant; it meant that we would have to wait for a while after we opened each present to enjoy it until the timer dinged and we could move on to opening the next gift.

What is it about waiting that we dislike so much? “Please wait here until your table is ready; you need to wait; it’s not your turn yet.” 

We silently swear, “I can’t wait any longer!” when we are waiting in line at the post office, or waiting to see our loved ones, or waiting for the sun to rise after a restless night of sleep. We don’t like to wait.

Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of waiting; it must be the season for it. Little kids are waiting and watching for Santa’s arrival. We are waiting on packages, on Christmas cards, we are waiting at the grocery store, and some of us are waiting for this year to be over.

It’s a lot of waiting, and it’s been driving me a little bonkers. That is until I changed the lens on my waiting.

What if the waiting is supposed to be enjoyed, is supposed to be spent in anticipation, in wonderment, in reflection, in the moment.

“Good things come to those who wait” is the adage. And what if cutting someone off in traffic and pushing your way to the head of the line wasn’t what was supposed to happen for you at all? That the waiting was the gift and the time given to you to reflect, to anticipate, and to appreciate?

So instead of exclaiming, “I can’t wait for this year to be over!” I’m going to wait, reflect on the goodness this year has brought, and reflect on the gifts that life has brought, and if I’m having trouble, I think I can dig up an old egg timer from the kitchen to help me. ⏲