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“My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.”  – Psalm 130:6 

“The Waiting Place . . . for people just waiting.  Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow, or waiting around for a Yes or No, or waiting for their hair to grow.  Everyone is just waiting. . . Waiting for the fish to bite, or waiting for wind to fly a kite, or waiting around for Friday night, or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake, or a pot to boil, or a Better Break, or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants, or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.  Everyone is just waiting. . . NO!  That’s not for you!  Somehow you’ll escape all that waiting and staying.  You’ll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing.  With banner flip-flapping, once more you’ll ride high!  Ready for anything under the sky.  Ready because you’re that kind of a guy! . . . Oh, the places you’ll go!” – Dr. Seuss 

Like it or not we all enter The Waiting Place from time to time, don’t we?  We are not patient in waiting, though, especially in this age of technology where there is instant access to almost everything with the mere push of a button.  Besides, we are doers who have been taught to believe that activity is a virtue and idleness is not, and waiting feels like idleness, a waste of time.   

Waiting is not unlike what St. John of the Cross describes as “the dark night of the soul.”  Yet, the “dark night” of which he speaks is not bad or destructive as we might believe, nor is its purpose to punish or afflict us in any way.  Rather, it is a time that is meant to set us free to anticipate, dream, and prepare for what is to come even when it feels as if it never will.  It is simply The Waiting Place as Dr. Seuss calls it, a place to get ready for when the perfect job opportunity comes along, or the right person enters our lives; the proper treatment for healing, or relief after a long struggle; acceptance of an application, or money to make a purchase; the birth of a child, or an answer to prayer.  Yes, sooner or later you’ll escape all that waiting and staying and find yourself in bright places where Boom Bands are playing.  Then . . . . . . Oh, the places you’ll go!

“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?”  – Matthew 6:27 

Driving down the street this past week I saw the following quote on a marquis in front of a church:  “Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday,” it said.  Just stop for a moment and let that roll around in your head a bit. . . . . “Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.”

This reminded me of Mark Twain who once said he had known a lot of troubles in his life and most of them never happened.  It’s like “The Mountain in Labor” story from Aesop’s fables.  “A mountain was once greatly agitated.  Loud groans and noises were heard, and crowds of people came from all parts to see what was the matter.  While they were assembled in anxious expectation of some terrible calamity, out came a mouse.  [The moral of the story is . . .] Don’t make much ado about nothing.” 

Most of our worries are like that, much ado about nothing.  During my long-time former career as a bond trader it was inevitable that the market would occasionally retreat, but sometimes those retreats would digress into downward spirals.  As a trader holding positions those were gut-wrenching, cold-sweat, sleepless-night kinds of times.  In fact, I have to admit as I got older those times did not get any easier but grew even more stressful and became the driving force behind my decision to leave the business before it affected my health and impacted my family.  On the other hand, there never was a down cycle during my entire career – no matter how stressful – that I did not survive and find that there was blue sky on the other side.  Yes, such times did require prudent and aggressive management, plus a lot of hard work, but never ended in total disaster.  In the midst of the storm it felt like that mountain in labor, but in the end out came nothing but a mouse.  Sometimes I would even ask myself why I worried so much.  And life went on.

“Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.”  And who of us by worrying can add a single hour to his life?  By contrast, do you ever wonder how many hours of our lives have been lost from worrying?  Most of us are like Mark Twain; we’ve known a lot of troubles in our lives, but most of them never happened.

“. . . unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.”  – John 12:24 

Near our home along the route where we regularly jog in the mornings there exist several deeply wooded areas where beneath the trees there lies a thick carpet of dry leaves ever growing deeper as the colorful fall foliage drifts from the trees.  Laying there un-violated by rakes and leaf-blowers, the leaves remain throughout the winter months, decaying and enriching the soil providing nourishment for new vegetation in the forthcoming spring.  It is nature’s way of demonstrating how death becomes life-giving.  Mind you, it is only the leaves on the trees that die, not the entire tree.

We humans are like that.  When a part of our self-centered nature dies it becomes life-giving. When we surrender our addictions or those things we think we can’t live without, we position ourselves to nourish, restore and replenish others, to offer them new life.  There is no better example of this than what occurs in Alcoholics Anonymous which is comprised of people who have surrendered their addictions to God through the support of fellow human beings who have walked the same path.  It is a beautiful thing how one who has surrendered – that is, died to part of oneself – is able to in turn “sponsor” another through his or her surrender, a dying that becomes life-giving.  Lives are recovered, relationships restored, and new ones formed.  AA works because one person’s death to a life of addiction becomes life-giving to another by one beggar showing another beggar where to find bread.

Each of us is like a grain of wheat, and until we die to ourselves we remain just a grain of wheat; but if we die, we produce much fruit; our death becomes life-giving, filling our lives and those of others with abundance, meaning, and purpose.

Autumn is such a beautiful time, my favorite season of the year.  It is a time when part of nature dies, yet from that death new life is nourished – just like what we do when part of us dies.

“. . . rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”  – Romans 5:4 

Several years ago I was introduced to a couple named Jim and Mimi as a potential buyer of their business.  The business, once a successful enterprise, was on the brink of failure due primarily to some unfortunate circumstances involving Mimi’s rapidly declining health.  They were in desperate need of someone to take it over, and on the surface it appeared to me the business might have some possibilities, therefore worth exploring as an investment.

For weeks I worked side by side with Jim, often long hours, simply trying to keep the doors open long enough for me to complete my due diligence.  Jim focused on sales while both of us negotiated with clients, vendors, creditors, and employees.  It was a tense time, but especially for Jim and Mimi who were on the verge of losing everything they had.  Yet, throughout the entire ordeal Jim remained cheerful and never lost hope.

We developed a special bond, Jim and I, and I found myself desperately wanting it to all work out so he and Mimi might somehow salvage their financial lives.  Jim obviously wanted that too, but only if it proved to be a sound business opportunity for me.  The end result was that the business was just too far gone and no transaction ever occurred.  My heart broke for Jim and his wife Mimi and the circumstances they faced, but Jim didn’t see it that way.  No, even in those darkest of times he wasted no time on self-pity, but continued to maintain an amazing sense of hope. . . . Soon we lost touch.

. . . . Until one cold winter day several months later my cell phone rang.  It was Jim calling to check on me.  Imagine that, calling to check on me!  Here was a man who had lost everything, living with relatives because he and Mimi could not afford their own place, trying to pick up the pieces and start over.  Yet in his voice I could still hear that never-ending hope.  Suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.  Jim taught me that.  I’ve never heard from him again since that day, but I think of him often and pray that he and Mimi managed to get back on their feet.

“You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit – fruit that will last.”   – John 15:16

Recently I attended the funeral of my mother’s first cousin Walter who had passed away at age ninety-eight, the last one of that generation in our family.  Walter had a reputation for being quite a character at times with a head full of funny stories.  One such story occurred just a couple of years ago when his pastor came by to visit and Walter shared with the him the eulogy he had written for the minister to read at his funeral whenever his time came, and that he could expect to receive in return two crisp one hundred dollar bills as an honorarium.  But after scanning the essay Walter had written about himself the pastor slid it back across the table.  “Walter,” he said appearing as serious as he could, “it’s going to take a whole lot more than two hundred dollars for me to tell those lies.”

Each morning as I routinely read the newspaper while having my bowl of raisin bran I almost always catch myself perusing the obituaries.  (Maybe I’ve reached the age where I’m just checking to see if my name’s in there, which it isn’t of course – not yet anyway.)  It fascinates me to read about what people have done with their lives and their accomplishments.  They range from the seemingly mundane and ordinary to headline-making extraordinary, from simply being a quiet servant or raising a loving family to achievements that have changed the world.  Almost all, though, have borne fruit in some way, fruit that will continue to produce more fruit; like Walter, a highly successful farmer and rancher who, along with his wife of seventy-three years, raised and nurtured a close-knit family of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, while at the same time being a good neighbor, a good steward, and striving to build and sustain a better community so that others might enjoy a better life and a better world.

Each of us in our own unique way was created to bear good fruit, fruit that endures and produces more good fruit.  When I read obituaries about people who have led good and productive lives, or hear first-hand testimonies about people like my relative Walter, it motivates me to examine my own life.  Am I bearing fruit – fruit that will last, I ask myself?  Thanks to those who have gone before for inspiring us to live like they did.