Karla Kassebaum

Last evening I went to a bookstore coffee shop and stood at the counter to order my coffee. No workers were around so I stood waiting … and waiting. I looked for a bell to ring for service. There was none. My mind wandered to all I could accomplish if someone was at the counter and I was already seated. I waited longer and then smiled–once again my impatience reared its ugly head.

Our world has become so fast paced that standing in line for a few minutes with no one around to serve us seems like an eternity.

Our technology today does not help. Rather than wait for a letter to arrive in the mail, we routinely check email for the quick response. Rather than wait for the scheduled time slot to watch a movie, we search On-Demand and watch whatever we want whenever we want. And that does not even compare to the instant options available to us when it comes to cell phones today. All these gadgets can make us an impatient society bothered by having to wait for anything.

Now, I have to admit I like On-Demand and the quick responses of email but I find that it is hard not to carry the right-now mentality into the rest of my life. Such as:

          Why cannot our children obey instantly?

          Why cannot dogs be instantly trained?

          Instant answers to prayers would be nice.

Unfortunately, life does not work that way. I find the gotta-have-it-right-now attitude rubs against the fabric of how life works and creates a few holes.

At times I am unknowingly edgy when my daughter needs teaching in an area rather than instantly knowing what she should do. I am unnecessarily frustrated at our dog that cannot learn to heel on the first or second walk. And I wonder where God is when I think He has missed a few opportunities to answer my prayers.

I find I need a constant post-it note on my forehead reminding me that much of the best of life comes in the waiting, the discovering, the unearthing, and yes most importantly … the journey.

When I remember this, I find such incredible treasures along the way–my daughter takes flight once she has the tools taught to her that she needs, I learn to rest in the sovereign plan of God knowing that He is in control and I do not have to be. And our dog … well, she is in process and an exercise of my patience at every evening walk. She will catch on soon enough.

What treasure will you discover today?

To watch my daughter clean her room is synonymous with watching someone overflow with excitement about life. However, she hates to clean her room. I share her aversion to cleaning, but taught her early on how to push through the undesirable tasks — crank up the music!

Music has a way of offering a different focus as you do the unlikable.

As she picks up items off the floor singing away, she stops briefly when the beat hits just right so she can burst into a musical dance break. She grabs an invisible microphone as she watches herself dance in the mirror. As the music flows through the house, I cannot help but bounce, tap, and sway where I am at as well. It is infectious.

I guess it all goes back to where we put our focus. What would happen if we robbed our dislikes of their misery and just turned up the music, let loose, and danced? If you have a teen, the dancing may need to be isolated to your home so no embarrassment is inflicted upon them … or perhaps that is just how my daughter feels.

Anyone who knows me, knows I’m a bit … loud. My laugh can be heard over a crowd, my voice projects when I talk without even trying, and I can’t tell a story without standing up and showing it in action. It’s just how I am. I’ve always been a theatrical storyteller.

 

We recently returned from our Cancun vacation and were at the hairdressers for my daughter’s haircut. The hairdresser asked about our trip and I couldn’t just leave it at “It was good.” Instead, I began telling her the story of the day we got stuck in a flood on an island and how the next day we got severely drenched waiting 10 minutes for a bus, of which both stories provided plenty of drama itself. But I didn’t just tell the story, I stood up for a few theatrical parts, much to my daughter’s dismay.

 

I believe it was around the time I was “slopping” behind the salon chair making squishing sound effects as the hairdresser laughed, that my daughter said, “MOM!” and gave me the look of please sit down.

 

On the ride home, she said, “Mom, your stories are really funny, but let’s face it — you’re rather loud. I think everyone in the salon heard and saw you tell the story.”

 

I of course laughed and said, “I probably cheered someone up in that room that needed a good laugh today.”

 

“But we don’t know the rest of those people,” she said.

 

I proceeded to remind her that this is just how God wired me and the way I’ve always told stories and events. She echoed–much to her dismay–she does the same thing. We both laughed.

 

Rather than try to be like everyone else, be your uniquely different self. Who knows, you might even brighten someone else’s day.