Waiting is hard to do. For a meeting, for your kids to come home, relief, or a miracle. We all wait at some point. Waiting for something you desperately want or need is like peering up a mountain you think you’ll climb one day, tall and spiring upward with the peak just out of sight. A mountain that seems to have no path, no means of motion forward.
There is something I can see on the other side; maybe it’s the next mountain, or maybe something a bit hazy, in between mountains. Dusky, sun-setty. It feels like it might be fireflies on a summer night. We had that last summer, late one night we let the kids stay up and we caught fireflies in little white nets. Even little Miss who, in hindsight, seemed to be just a baby, caught fireflies and we put them in a jar.
I am not waiting…I want that again.
There is a path snaking up toward the top of the mountain, and looking back down I see how high it really is. It wasn’t clear how far we’d come until this point. I should be afraid, but I am not. I am walking and I’d rather be walking than looking up and wondering if I should go.
It’s not possible for everyone to find fireflies, but I see one now and again and they lead me on, like a lighted on the path in the rut of the mountain.
We’ll catch them together. Let them light our children’s faces, hear the laughter. We will, I am sure of it.