I find myself always waiting.
Not upon the second arrival of my Saviour kind of wait. But,
The kind that causes you to wait for the other shoe to drop.
The ‘I know my idle hands ought to find something worth doing but I’ll wait anyways’ kind of wait.
I repeatedly mistake being STILL for waiting.
In the unfolding of this story, I wait
Knowing there’s a master and a field,
desperate for more labourers.
Still I wait for Him to ask me to work for him.