Diapers and Dragons

Saturday, July 11, 2009


I feel bound up by words, bound up by thoughts, bound up by expectations and dreams and wishes. Nothing seems to come out just right. My sense of humor has dried up until it trickles in fits and starts, a faulty faucet that needs cleaning or oiling or serious plumbing work. Mostly it works in the car; something about driving and the comments from children in the back seat frees the flow and I laugh and retort and bubble up with brilliant blog posts. But I cannot type in the car.

And when I get home, I sit at the computer, obsessively, clicking refresh over and over on email and Twitter and my blog dashboard, and I reach for those ideas and they skip away, tantalizing, just out of reach.

I'm still caught in limbo, that in-between-time when nothing is quite certain and a pall of sadness drifts overhead like clouds covering the stars. Or perhaps, more like dust from my life's volcanic eruption that drifts into every nook and cranny. Will he file? Will he suddenly change his mind? Will I? Will a miracle happen? Will nothing happen? How long will this limbo stay, grey and grim, dimming my sight?

I say the same words time and time again, to my friends, to my family, to the Interwebs. My story grows stale. My mind does too. I fear that my faith dulls along with them.

My faith, when I listen, tells me, Wait. Wait, and in His time all will be made clear. And I know this is true, and yet that impatient child in me whines, When? How long? Give me a deadline and I can hold on!

It's the waiting that's hardest to bear, especially when I simply don't seem to be able to say or do or think anything that matters. I'm shouting into a vacuum, the sound swallowed up by nothingness. I don't even have tears any more.

Just that in-between time. Limbo. I understand now what Dante meant.

8 bits of love:

Arby said...

Alistair Begg

Faith in the Waiting Room Part A


Faith in the Waiting Room Part B


Listen on-line when you can. These messages helped me a lot. Maybe they will help you, too.

The Kampers said...

I was listening to Sarah Groves this morning while I was doing dishes and prayed for you, for your boys, for your husband.

Kathleen said...

I hate waiting and that in-limbo feeling; I can't imagine what you're going through! Hang in there and don't let go of your faith.

I still see your humor...still trying to pick my favorite post. Can't be done, methinks. I'll vote that all of your "Not Me" posts are my favorites. But then again, I like your posts from when you were sick. And your posts about teaching. And about mothering. See? Difficult decision!

Hang in there...praying for you!

Beth said...

It sounds like a horrible time for you. I'm just glad there are still good times for you-even if they are mostly only in your car. That's something.

I'm still deciding about the writing, too. I just need to find a bit of time to catch up on the stuff I missed before I found your blog.

Mwa said...

Hold on!

(Beautiful post. No need to be witty all the time. I know the urge, though.)

Heidi said...

Sending all my love, as ever.

MomZombie said...

Saw your Tweet and thought I'd come by for more information. Although the roads we are traveling are different, the scenery along the way is very similar. In that way I can sympathize with your journey. You are right: Waiting is so difficult. News, whether good or bad, at least gives us a direction in which to head. I'm sending good thoughts and renewed energy your way.

mom said...

This waiting thing . . . so hard. But it brings to mind the years I waited for my main prayer for you to be answered. God's way of letting us be free agents (i.e. not treating us as marionettes) can be extremely frustrating, at least when it isn't me that he's allowing their freedom. I'm going to send you something that has helped me. I love you.

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