Reflecting on Mt. 11: 2-11
Waiting. It’s excruciating. I’m not thinking about the usual waitings: in line, in traffic, at the doctor’s office. Those are character-building, and give us daily opportunities to pray for all the people who got to the post office ahead of us, who were daydreaming when the light changed, who were getting serious news from the doctor while we were reading magazines in the waiting room.
I’m thinking about the kind of waiting that’s truly painful. Like waiting for the nausea medication to work when you have the stomach flu. Or waiting for the sound of the garage door opener when your teenagers are two hours past curfew. Or waiting for the biopsy results on that asymmetrical mole with the irregular borders.
It seems that all creation quivers in a constant state of waiting. Chipmunks are good waiters. They store seeds and nuts under their nests in late summer, then rouse themselves from sleep during the winter to eat what they have wisely stored. Bears are expert waiters. They store fat before winter, and then hibernate in a sleep so deep that they don’t wake until spring. And then, get out of their way. They are ravenous from their months of waiting.
And don’t even mention the word “waiting” to butterflies. They are creation’s superstars of waiting.
John the Baptist, shut up in Herod’s prison, knew he was coming to the end of his earthly waiting. He sent his disciples to see and hear the One of whom the prophets foretold.
Go and tell John what you see. The blind see, the lame walk, the poor have the Good News preached to them.
Dark night is done. Bright morning dawns at last.
What are you waiting for?