There is something so beautiful about waiting. Hey! I can’t believe I wrote that! If you read my first book, Look, Listen, Love, I go on for several chapters lamenting the wait for my camper van to be ready. But really, when you think of it, it’s true. When you’re waiting for something good—something that is certain to happen—you start to actually enjoy it in the period of anticipation. Your imagination begins to take hold of the idea, imagining how you will have it in your hands.
Pregnancy is one of those times. You start to imagine what it will be like to finally hold that baby in your arms, to feel the softness of the baby’s skin on your cheek, to smell the fresh smell of the baby after his or her bath. I didn’t want to know the sex of my babies before they were born. That’s like peeking at your Christmas presents a week before Christmas. Once I did peek at a Christmas present that wasn’t well wrapped. On Christmas morning all the fun and surprise was gone for that particular gift. I’ve never understood people who peek or who ask the baby’s sex.
I imagine the disciples on Easter Saturday. What a sad day for them! Jesus had repeatedly assured them that He would rise on the 3rd day. They had seen Him raise people from the dead, but they were so stuck in their old mindset that they couldn’t imagine the resurrection. Instead of enjoying the anticipation of Easter Sunday, they were fixated on Crucifixion Friday and their sorrow and loss.
For me, this time of waiting, fasting, and praying for my answer is a time of breathless anticipation. Unlike the disciples, I have the sure and certain hope of getting the answer. So instead of mourning my loss (in this case, solid food), I am getting ready to receive my answer. Today begins the last week of my fast, and I am so excited that I can hardly stand it. I do feel like a child the week before Christmas or a mother in the last month of pregnancy. My answer will come, and I am thoroughly enjoying the wait. God is good!