The Waiting Place
The Waiting Place:
Showing up, even when you don’t know what for
by Sara Kernan
It’s 6:50 am.
The alarm drones on in an unforgiving tone as my eyes adjust to take in the morning light. The space beside me is empty as my husband has woken up before the sun for work and I have already said my “Have a good day, be safe” speech and was given a see-you-later kiss.
I am fighting two voices in my head laying in the state between being awake and being asleep. Anxiety is telling me to lay in bed all day. The other part of me is saying to get up and show up for the day.
I’ll scroll for a few more minutes before deciding what will win today.
Showing up wins. Rolling out of bed I opt out of putting my face together because let’s be real, I’m not going anywhere outside of this house.
Coffee, breakfast, and then ...
Welcome to my life, not as I expected, post-graduation. It looks a lot like that scene in “Tangled” where she’s painting the walls, baking, puzzle making, making candles … unemployed. Unemployed and bored out of my mind.
I graduated in May of last year. And in the same season, I quit my job because I had an opportunity to travel and I thought we would be moving soon because of our military life. A life that I am learning day by day is unpredictable, subject to change (cue knowing laughter from those that know).
And from then to now, my life has given me a serious case of whip-lash. I lacked serious boundaries last year and overworked myself to the point that my health was in poor shape. From January until May I found myself in and out of the hospital trying to figure out why my body was so unhealthy.
Diagnosis? Ya stressed girl. Way too stressed.
I was at my unhealthiest and I really ought to issue a sincere apology to anyone who knew me then. I was the messiest of messes and so, so broken. Between 18 credit hours, a job writing, ministry involvement, my deteriorating health and maintaining my marriage, friendships, and long-distance family, exhausted was not a word strong enough for me.
From that to now, I am left reeling from the change of pace. And ironically, my anxiety is getting louder for different reasons these days. In that season? I was overwhelmed by my circumstances. In this season? I am underwhelmed by my circumstances but overwhelmed with self-hate.
I am underwhelmed because I graduated with less of an idea of what I want to do than when I started. 18-year-old Sara picked a major and course of life that doesn’t match where I am now. I am overwhelmed because now I kinda feel like I wasted a lot of time and money on something meaningless. I am underwhelmed because I cannot find a job and have ten “thank you, next” emails to prove it. I am overwhelmed because it feels like there is something fundamentally wrong with me. I am overwhelmed because how do you get experience when you need the experience to get experience??
We know that these seasons exist, Dr. Seuss warned us about them we were kids when he told us about “The Waiting Place” in his book Oh, The Places You’ll Go. Or how about The Little Engine Who Could getting over his obstacle? We hear them in success stories of cultural icons like J.K. Rowling, and beyond. Greatness is born out of low points.
But the waiting place hurts. The waiting place is embarrassing. And as I scroll mindlessly on my phone, I am continually comparing and slowly forgetting that the waiting place is normal, because Facebook lives seem to look pretty good. And as I am asked, “what do you do?” I am keenly aware that my answer of “I’m in between things” is not enough. I know in my head this is not forever but in my heart, it’s hard to see a world beyond my now. Anxiety says it’s because I’m not enough. I so often listen to that message. Some days it kinda feels like God has forgotten.
On bad days, this waiting place brings out the worst of me. It reveals my pride as I put my identity in what I do instead of whose I am. It reveals my jealousy as I compare to others and put myself down, and consequently measure other people as either better off or worse off than me. It reveals my self-hate as I revert to a dialogue of hurtful comments that I would never dare to say to a friend but I shout internally at myself.
But on good days, I am gaining a better understanding of how what may look like a mess to me is a masterpiece in the hands of our creator. What I am reminding myself is
Ruth lost her husband before she met Boaz.
David was just a shepherd.
Rahab would not have expected her kindness to some strangers to be so life-changing.
Moses had to flee his community before becoming Israel’s voice.
I sit with my coffee this morning in the same routine that I have found myself in the past several months. My life looks nothing like I dreamed, hoped, or expected after graduating. And while this season does not necessarily mean that I have epic things in the future like David or Moses can contest, I do trust that God will use this for His good. And the only that comes from this season might be that I learn some important lessons about identity, self, and Him. And that is enough. Or it might just be the season of stillness I need before inspiration will strike.
But I don’t care anymore about what comes from it. I want to care simply about faithfulness. And if God wants me to keep showing up? So be it.