Alexa Babin

I once heard a pastor advise against asking God for patience unless you’re already in a situation that requires it. While that’s humorous, I do deeply understand what he meant—so often we want to learn things, but aren’t willing to go through the experiences required to stomach the lesson.

Not sure about you, but I feel like my life consists of a lot of waiting. More than I bargained for, really. I wait in traffic when the light’s already turned green. I wait in line at the grocery store when it seems more than two checkers should be staffed. I wait for people to text back to make plans. I wait for the oven to preheat, for flight prices to drop, for the washer to finish its cycle, for the mail to come, for my tax return to hit my bank account. I also wait for the bigger things such as an opportunity at a dream job, financial freedom to own property, a script that’s near perfect, clarity on long-distance dating, and a deeper understanding of how the heck to do all that needs to be done in a day.

And yet… I’m still waiting. On all of it.

I can’t help but wonder if how we wait might help us befriend the practice of waiting itself. Could we ever enjoy waiting? Is that taking it too far?

Last week, my friend Hillary told me this: “Wait is a verb.” If you’re doubting the truth of this, here’s the dictionary definition of the word “wait:”

Stay where one is or delay action until a particular time or until something else happens.

Immediately, the image of a toddler and a puppy at a crosswalk entered my mind. Do you know the restraint it takes for an eager child or pup to stay put until the traffic light changes? Waiting is not passive. It is active. Exhaustingly so, at times. I think this might be the first clue to how we wait well. We acknowledge that wait is a verb. An action that requires significant effort and focus.

Somewhere along the way, I got the idea that waiting was akin to being lazy, and for a go-getter like me, I couldn’t afford that. I had to get out there and take life by the horns—why hold off when I could jump to action now?

But that’s just it—waiting is action. It just looks a little different than other actions because it doesn’t involve movement.

That leads me to another question… how does a person complete any action well? What is required to deem something well-executed?

Thoughtfulness is involved. Most well-enacted activities are not done on a whim. And when they are, there’s typically a level of training or preparation that precedes said whim. I think a certain level of contentment or self-assuredness is necessary, too. When you’re waiting, it goes so much better when you don’t feel the weight of the world hanging in the balance, dependent on the thing you’re waiting for. Contentment in the waiting allows for a release of pressure—no matter how long the wait or what the outcome is, you know you’re alright. When you can accept the period of waiting with a sureness that even though you may not want to be exercising patience, you’re okay with doing it anyways.

It’s interesting to note the distinction between “wait” and “patience.” Patience (a noun, unlike our verb, wait!) is defined as:

The capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset.

Maybe that’s as simple as it is. Patience is how to wait well. Acceptance. Tolerance. Level-headedness in the very moment you want to lose it.

I wish I could say I’m excellent at waiting well, at exercising patience, and at being content in all things, but I can say that I’m excited to keep learning. Because wait is a verb, it does require practice—exercise, if you will. Repetition will strengthen this muscle.

Perhaps waiting well comes from waiting, and waiting, and waiting… until we expand our capacity to accept it. Acceptance that the power is beyond us, out of our hands. Tolerance for the things that stretch us and push us into discomfort or even deep pain.

Wait.

Such a simple word for such a challenging thing. The good news is we’ll never run out of chances to practice.