The Sounds of Waiting

I’ve got an idea. Go with me here. Cause I think it’s genius. Are you ready for it? It’s brilliant. Here goes.

DMV + Tiki Bar.

Boom.

Let that sink in for just a minute.

That’s right. I’m proposing every DMV also put in a Tiki Bar. Why? Because who’s ever been happy at the DMV? No one. Not a single breathing person. But who’s ever been upset at a Tiki Bar? No one. Not a person with the slightest heartbeat. No decent human being in all of existence has ever been the least bit discontent at a Tiki Bar. How could you be? Umbrella drinks. Island music. Artificial thatch huts. Come on.

Waiting at the DMV, though, is purgatory on earth. Sunk, sullen faces. Waiting for something you never cared to wait for in the first place. And yet, wait we must.

I hate waiting. All waiting. Even when the wait is for something good. In line at Disneyland? Yep. Still not down for that waiting, either. No matter what amusement is on the other side.

You know the only thing that’s spared me from the drumming droll of waiting? Reframing the whole dang thing. And to do so, I have to shift my eyes away from what’s beyond me to instead hold what’s within me. And that’s the task, isn’t it? One I’m afraid no Tiki Bar will ever cure.

Waiting excavates, infiltrates, and exposes.

There’s no hiding in waiting.

What do you hold while you wait? What do you hear stirring within? Like the annoying ticking noise the fan makes while you lie in bed. The one you didn’t notice until you sat still.

I’ll tell you what I hear. These little thumps of irregular heartbeats beating away.

I hear fear. And lies. And confusion.

Brokenness. Let down. Failure.

Trust. Pain. Apathy.

Desire. Acceptance. Hope.

Surrender. Anxiety. Peace.

Silence. Noise. Silence.

Release. Grip. Release.

And then, if I’m attentive enough, I hear my breathing. Inhaling. Exhaling. Living. Alive. The A/C blowing on a hot day.

We’re in a season of waiting right now. And I don’t want to miss it. I want to receive it. And not just as a whirring white noise. But in all the tones and timbres of life’s messy melodies.

Sitting here at the DMV, there’s no Marley. And no Mai Tai.

Just Candy Crush crushing away on the phone next to me. A worn out copier coughing across the counter. A disappointed older woman missing that always elusive other piece of needed documentation (bless her, Lord).

I’m surrounded by sounds and stories. Ones I imagine are filled with waiting on hospital results. Waiting on the son to come home. Waiting on the job to come through. Waiting on the grudge to be gone. Waiting on the redemption to be written.

I guess we don’t need the Tiki Bar here after all. Tempting as it might be. Cause I need to hear it. We need to hear it.

Hear the waiting. And all it brings. Three simple beats at a time.

Belief. Uncertainty. Belief.

Wondering. Wandering. Wondering.

Rest. Restlessness. Rest.

Receive. Resist. Receive.