Waiting with Hope in the Midst of Uncertainty
Earlier this month I had to wait. First there was the waiting of whether surgery was even going to happen. This involved preparing for this important medical procedure like it was going to happen, yet at the same time knowing that even this important thing had to be held lightly as certain conditions had to be met for it to happen at all.
The morning came after a restless night. It’s hard to sleep restfully when waiting in expectation for something. Instead of being a child delighting in Christmas and unable to sleep, sometimes the waiting is an anxious waiting. Is this loved one going to be okay? What if this loved one does not wake up? What if, what if, what if?
In a hospital. The sterile walls. All the masks. Powerless to do anything other than wait (and pray). In this particular instance waiting involved trust–trust that a loved one was in good hands, getting the care needed. I was simply present–before the waiting, during the waiting, and ready and positioned to be there after the waiting.
I found myself utterly exhausted from the waiting. Mentally and emotionally is it possible that waiting is the equivalent to a physically exhausting experience?
Waiting can feel excruciating as it is often so tied up with uncertainty. Waiting also often invokes feeling powerless and being out of control. As we wait we are faced with uncertainty. We then have a choice around how to interact with these dynamics. Naturally, the waiting experience often contributes to anxiety.
So many of our life transitions involve big moments–going off to college, graduating, getting a first job, starting a family, etc., and we often wait and wait for these moments, yet the bulk of our life is lived in the smaller moments, the in between where we can still wait and hope for something, yet we are faced with the day before us and walking through that day.
Sometimes in these spaces it feels dark, mundane, void of color. Surely, what awaits me on the other side is pure joy, abundant color, and profound clarity. While this is sometimes true as something we very much hope for might be around the corner and worth waiting for, we certainly may journey along better in realizing the goodness of what’s right in front of us.
A few Examples of Waiting:
Waiting to be together in a long distance relationship
Waiting to have a child
Waiting for adoption
Waiting for children to go to school
Waiting to catch your breath
Waiting to nurture a hobby or interest
Waiting for more margin
Waiting for better health for you or a loved one
Waiting to feel like yourself again
Waiting for the grief to pass
Waiting for the loneliness to subside
Waiting to laugh again
Waiting for friendship to grow
Waiting for finances to improve
Waiting to get out of debt
Waiting for your business to grow or to start it at all
Waiting for your degree to be complete
Waiting for the right job opportunity
Waiting for retirement
Waiting for freedom
Waiting to commit
Waiting to take a risk
Waiting to dream
Waiting to move
Waiting feels vulnerable.
So many times the waiting itself might feel like such anguish that we shut down our longings, press mute, turn down the volume, or disown them altogether. There is a vulnerability that comes with naming our longings, what we are waiting for, our specific hope and/or dream. Vulnerability is difficult to sit with, so if we simply disown the longing, maybe our waiting will be easier to bear.
Yet, what if we try a different approach, one that is congruent with what is actually going on in our hearts and minds. In this approach, we are able to name what we are waiting for. We may then decide to be more discerning about who we share and trust these vulnerable hopes with, yet by naming our longings we are being honest with ourselves. And that has value.
Elevating the mundane while waiting.
While we can fix our eyes on whatever might serve as a light at the end of a tunnel, we also might benefit from paying attention to traveling in and through the tunnel itself. When things feel darker, what sustains you?
Waiting can be active.
Waiting can take different forms. Waiting is often thought of as passive, which can really reinforce feeling stuck, yet waiting is not always passive. In fact, it actually involves energy, exertion, and effort.
Consider even a person fishing. The fish do not bite without actively waiting for them, positioning yourself and the bait with a posture of intention.
Do you view waiting as a more passive or active dynamic?
Do you typically feel stuck as you wait?
If you reframe waiting to be a more active process, how might this encourage you?
Waiting can be meaningful.
We can get through just about anything if we can connect meaning to it. Is your waiting completely in vain or can you trust that there is a purpose in this season of waiting?
Even if you can not see evidence of movement, is it possible that growth is happening behind the scenes and in the stillness?
Keep living as you wait.
Many times we wait before we travel or move. We feel like once the journey actually begins and we embark for a new land (whether literally or metaphorically), that then our life starts. It is as if our life starting depends on the location we are in, or who we are in relationship with, or whether a certain job has begun. The reality is that while we wait for these big things, there is a journey going on behind the scenes. In this sense, what feels mundane is actually significant. So much of our life is about becoming the person we are meant to be, and often it is in the waiting for big things that this becoming is more likely to be honed and sharpened.
Have you seen evidence of this dynamic in your life–where you recognize now how much life was actually occurring before something big happened?
More than anything, perhaps, there is an invitation to live while we wait, despite the discomfort of waiting, to still choose connection, opportunities, and growth.
Let the light in.
What are your surroundings while you wait? Waiting in a cozy cabin in the mountains might feel different than a cold, dark tunnel with no sign of light.
If you feel like you are in a tunnel now, what might let the light in even just a little? Consider the value of even small amounts of light–A crack? A window? Glimmers?
In Closing:
What are you waiting for?
What gives you hope as you wait?
What tethers and grounds you?
How does Spirituality play a role in your waiting?
How can you be sustained and present in the midst of the waiting?
Elizabeth B. Burton is a licensed professional counselor and life coach with Burton Counseling, PLLC. Elizabeth lives just outside of Chattanooga, TN.; you can learn about Elizabeth here and about services provided here. Elizabeth also provides support to individuals and groups through an online course on Coping with Anxiety & Stress and through providing workshops and speaking opportunities. Elizabeth communicates about mental health and well-being through both the Narrating Hope newsletter and podcast as well as through her writing. Elizabeth would love to connect with you and welcomes you to sign up for the newsletter, listen in to the podcast, reach out about working together, and connect on social media.