The other day I was standing in the doorway to a public bathroom when a woman asked if there was a line, to which my response was “no, I am just waiting on my daughter.” I realized two things in that moment: my new reality in having a daughter and that I would probably be waiting on her the rest of my life.
I watched as she washed her hands and then washed her hands again and again. She was fascinated with the paper towel holder and the trash can she could open with her foot so she also dried her hands again and again. As I watched, equally humored and annoyed by the time the task was taking, I had repeated the words I just spoke over and over again in my head. “No, I am just waiting on my daughter.”
I wonder how many times my heavenly father has repeated those exact words about me. How often does he wait on me to figure things out, to stop living in fear, or to understand the depth of his love for me? The awesome thing is that it does not matter how many times he asks or how many times I repeat these words about my children. I will wait on them all the days of their lives, just as He is waiting on me. I will wait for them to figure things out and I will pray for the patience so I am not annoyed at how long it takes. I will wait for them to stop living in fear and ask God for the guidance to help them understand that living with fear is not really living. I will wait on them to understand how deep my love for them really is and I will hope that each night when they go to bed, they feel loved.
This afternoon I took the girls back to the orphanage where we met them. I was unsure if it was the best time, but I wanted them to be able to say goodbye to one of their caretakers that was leaving and to see their friends they have been asking about. I watched them in the only environment I will ever know regarding their journey into our family. I was able to talk with people that loved them, played with them, and cared for them. It was an amazing gift to have that time there and to watch the girls play and then come back to me when it was time to leave. And when I was busy talking and they asked for the third time to go home, I realized that they were saying in their own impatient way, “I am waiting on my mother.”
