Preparing to Wait

The preparation of the Thanksgiving turkey and dressing (the Southern equivalent of stuffing, although not cooked inside the bird) has always been my job.  I use my grandmother’s recipe.  I generally do the shopping, too, and I do all the initial preparations the day before.  It makes the actual day of celebration much more relaxing to have those things out of the way.  I usually watch the parade.  Some years, I go.   

This year, though, I had been traveling a lot before Thanksgiving, including a weeklong trip just before, so I made all the preparations far in advance.  I had checked the cabinet to make sure all the required spices were on hand.  I placed a grocery order in advance so that all the necessary ingredients were delivered before I got home. 

I was not able to do all the prep work the day before because I did not actually arrive home the afternoon of Thanksgiving Day.  Not a problem, or it shouldn’t have been.  Our son Matthew had to work anyway, so we planned to celebrate the next day.  I still had Thanksgiving afternoon to do the prep work. 

What I did not count on was that New York City had decided to replace the water main that serves our apartment on Friday, which I had not known about until I got home.  That meant we were without water most of the day.  The last thing you want when cooking Thanksgiving dinner is a kitchen without water.  Still not a problem, I thought.  Matthew was also off on Saturday, so we just pushed everything back another day.

Wrong.  We had plans with old friends from out-of-town Friday night.  That was fun, but it meant that the prep work could not be done the day before.  The water hadn’t come back on in time to do it before we went out.  I certainly didn’t feel like doing it when we got home.  I go to bed at 9:00, after all.

That meant everything was left to do on Saturday. And by then, you know, Thanksgiving just felt done.  I was over it.  Matthew slept until noon.  I assumed he was over it, too.  Put the turkey in the freezer, I thought, and I’m ahead of the game for Christmas.  Ginger, who had gotten turkey when we went out to eat after Matthew got home on Thursday night agreed.

I explained my plan to Matthew when he got up.  I thought surely he would agree.  He did not.  “We’re just not going to do Thanksgiving this year,” I said.  “Why?” he asked.  I didn’t have a good answer, at least not one I was willing to say out loud.  So I started the prep work on Saturday afternoon.  No parade.  Just prep.  It was all sort of out of order in order to make the sequencing work.  There was nothing relaxing about it.

But by six, dinner was on the table.  Matthew was happy.  Ginger was happy.  And, though I’d had a grumpy afternoon, I was happy.  And thankful.  It’s good not to skip Thanksgiving. 

Advent began on Sunday.  It is the season of preparation.  A lot of the shopping got done over the weekend.  The tree is going to be delivered tomorrow (don’t tell the Advent police).  The family arrives in just a few weeks.  I will order another turkey.  By December 25, all the preparations will be complete.  I have carefully not scheduled any travel between now and the big day so that I might even have a moment to reflect and think and pray.  All of those things I can plan for.  I will be prepared, but I can’t make Christmas itself happen.  That is just out of my control. 

I can prepare but I can’t make the event itself happen.  As the New York City Water Department helped me learn this Thanksgiving, that is beyond my control.  All I can do is prepare.  And wait.  The rest is out of my hands.  Prepare as I might, when it comes down to it, my main job is to wait, to wait on God.

Waiting, of course, is the part I am particularly bad at, always have been.  I got tired of waiting on Thanksgiving this year and just decided to skip it.  I tried, but my son who has grown up with his dad cooking the Thanksgiving turkey every single year of his life wouldn’t let me get away with it.

Neither will God.  All we can do is wait.  All we really have to do is wait.  That’s what really needs preparing for.

Peace,

Waiting and Confidence

One of the things that amazes me about New Yorkers is how good they are at waiting.  They wait at the bus stop and subway platform.  They wait for hours on the Thanksgiving Day Parade to come (I’ve done that one).  They wait in a sea of people to see the decorated department store windows at Christmas (I’ve done that one, too).  They wait for the dropping of the New Year’s Ball (not that one).  They wait in line (I cannot bring myself to say, as they do, “on line”) to buy theatre tickets.  They wait in line for special exhibits at the museum.  They wait in line to get coffee and a bagel.  They wait in line to go ice skating (although there is a way out of this particular line with cash).  They wait in line to wait in line.  They never seem to get flustered.

Isaiah tells us that “those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength” (40:31).  I must admit it doesn’t sound right to me.  I’m not good at waiting.  At all.  I had occasion last week to be waiting with Ginger to see a doctor.  I waited and I waited and I waited.  Hours.  And then I lost my cool.  I finally put my foot down and insisted (maybe demanded) on somebody paying attention.  And they did. 

Waiting seems to work for New Yorkers.  For me, not so much.  So what’s the difference? 

I take it as a spiritual failing of mine to think it’s up to me to make things happen.  When I wait, I wait with no expectation that the waiting will ever come to an end unless I do something about it.  New Yorkers wait with more confidence.  Confidence that the waiting will yield the desired outcome results in patience I suppose.  Maybe what my waiting lacks is confidence.  Perhaps my patience would be enhanced by cultivating confidence in others.

On the other hand, come to think of it, my waiting on the doctor last week resulted in a certain strength of its own, maybe precisely because of a lack of confidence.  Sometimes, after all, a lack of confidence is entirely justified.  It’s just that New York would cease to function if New Yorkers didn’t generally have it. 

I suppose Isaiah is right.  Those who wait renew their strength.  My strength, at least, seems to get a boost from a lack of patience.  Maybe one day I’ll mature to having more confidence instead.

Peace,