I have a lot of time to think on my way to work in the mornings. Also, a lot of time to sing along to the radio. And sometimes songs that aren’t on the radio, like “All I Ask Of You” from the Phantom of the Opera.
This morning, I was thinking about trains again, like I did on this day. And I had a little more insight into that.
I was thinking about trains in relation to patience again. And it struck me that while you’re sitting at the tracks, waiting for the last car to go by, you can’t really see what’s on the other side. Sometimes you catch a glimpse through the cars, and sometimes there are those flatbed cars so you can see a bit, but you really don’t know what’s beyond the seemingly endless line of cars.
You really can’t even imagine with much accuracy what’s there. There could due a circus on the other side of the train, entertaining the other waiting drivers. Someone you haven’t seen in a long time could be at the front of the line, perhaps thinking at that precise moment about when she will see you again.
The road could be torn up, waiting for re-surfacing, and it could be hard to drive over. Or it could be a newly paved street, with bright, shiny lines and a perfectly smooth surface.
You just never know what’s in store.
Waiting on God has the same sort of feeling – that absolutely anything could be beyond a period of waiting. A time of joy, a rough patch, a reunion, a funny surprise… something beyond your wildest imagination. I think sometimes I limit God to the options A, B, C, & D that I’ve delineated in my head. They’re usually quite unimaginative and normal, which makes little sense since God is anything but normal.
And I think that makes the waiting both easier and harder, knowing that God is far beyond our expectations we know that what’s best is in store, so we can rest easy. But then again, knowing that it’s the best makes it harder to wait.
Either, way though, we know it’s good, right?
Trains, who knew they had so much meaning?