Waiting

I find myself constantly waiting. Just waiting; waiting for people, waiting on people. It never bothered me before, the whole game of waiting. I can wait; I have no where else to be, I have nothing better to do. Waiting is good for me; it builds character I am told, it teaches patience, it strengthens compassion. Yet, as of late, I seem to have lost my capacity to wait.

What changed? What has changed that I have become impatient? What has changed that I am now hesitant to wait on people? From whence came this sense of urgency; from what spawn my reluctance? It troubles me, this knowledge that I am no longer as willing to wait and serve with alacrity. It feels very unbecoming of who I am, deviating greatly from the person that I envision myself to be, ultimately going against my instincts. Yet, here I am a lesser waiter in all sense of the word.

It's me, isn't it. I have changed. More importantly I have become first person singular. That's it... isn't it? Before it was just about waiting, there was no notion of "I" in there. Waiting was waiting, just a verb, an action to be completed. It was neutral, business as usual. But then "I" came along, and all of a sudden the dynamics changed. No longer is it about completing a task or helping someone out. No, suddenly there is a matter of self-preservation, an avoidance to becoming subservient. The question "What about me?" comes up, and I am stop dead in my tracks. I have allowed doubt to seep in.

It has been said that there is only a fine line between serving and being a servant. As Eliseo so eloquently puts it in the movie Life is Beautiful:

"Think of a sunflower, they bow to the sun. But if you see some that are bowed too far down, it means they're dead. You're here serving, you're not a servant. Serving is the supreme art. God is the first of servants. God serves men, but he's not a servant to men." I find that I have lost sight of where I stand in relation to that line. I have become a servant, servile to extrinsic factors. No longer can I claim that I am master of my own faculties. No longer is there altruism.

Once upon a time, I waited because I can, because it is within me to wait. Now, I feel I wait because I must. I did not choose whether or not to wait, rather the wait is thrust upon me... and I suppose I feel frustrated at the helplessness it induces in me - to wait, to wait on others, to wait for others when I am not ready.

I feel I have abased myself, and debased the art of waiting. Ironically, I have done so by placing myself before others. That should never have happened... never should I have allowed my sense of self grow so prominent that I place my own happiness before others. It is a false sense of entitlement. Who am I to be impatient? Who am I to think others should wait? I am disgusted.

I see where I have strayed. From this time forth, I shall wait, not out of a sense of inferiority nor superiority, but rather because I am graced with the gift to wait. I shall cherish my ability to wait.

Wait for me.