Good Things Come To Those Who Wait

    “There's a kind of a restless feeling and it catches you off guard” Gordon Lightfoot. I've been feeling like that this week, restless and ill at ease. River Daughter used to say,“Sometimes you just want to drive 90 miles an hour and do everything they tell you not to.”  She was 15 then and that pretty much sums it up.   Being disrespectful of that restless feeling and wanting to stomp it down will cause a grown woman to do all sorts of stupid ass things.  I know that because I’m a grown woman who’s done all sorts of stupid ass things.  And I don’t regret any of them for a minute, thank you very much, not even the drummers, and that’s saying something.
     There are some women and not a few men who just can’t stand that itchy soul feeling that you get sometimes and before you know it they’re off on a reckless tear that will make someone cry for them.  They don’t give themselves time and space to listen to the breathings of their heart.  They don’t trust that good things coming to them.
     What’s needed is deep trust and quiet, solitude to listen deeply to your heart and the courage to be true to what matters most in you.  Patience, which has never been my strong suit, is needed. Patience, stillness and a little wariness would not be out of order. Yeah, all in all, sometimes drummers can seem like the better choice or at least the lesser of two evils.                        
   It’s tempting to call what’s happening wrong and run like hell when really, it’s your heart saying, and “Get ready, honey, change is coming.”   What that change is and where it will lead is a mystery and there’s something sacred about the mystery of the soul that we need to honor.  We forget that sometimes, least I do. Then I remember that I don’t, in fact, need to know all the answers.  Where to next will make itself known in good time, I don’t need to know where to, how come, when or why, it’s not my job to know.  It’s my job to do, to get ready. It’s my job to listen and I don’t mean to The Grateful Dead or Sam Bush although they help, believe it not.
    This week I am getting ready, for what I do not know. I can’t say that it’s not tempting to chase after something tasty that will feel good and distract me for a moment or two.  I can’t say that I don’t want to drive 90 miles an hour and be a little reckless. I also can’t say that I don’t occasionally want to chuck it all and run away to Australia. I can say that I know for sure that where ever you go there you are.  That leaves me with honoring the restlessness that is an inevitable part of life and trusting that the answer to what next will come. 
  If I were a snake I’d be shedding my skin. Instead I am cleaning out bookshelves and closets, going hiking with friends and sitting in silence when I dare. I’m eating cake for breakfast because I can, taking  long, headed to nowhere walks, and I am trusting that I am deeply loved by a cherished Father and that good things are in fact coming to me. Good things are coming to all of us. I know that because they are already here. 

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