The Waiting Game

There is a game I made up that I often play with others when I’m caught waiting. I will ask the person I’m with to guess how long it’ll take the person we’re waiting for to get to us based on the things we see around us. For example, I will say: “I bet that Mr. Awaited will arrive before the next red car I see” or “I bet that 20 people will pass by before Ms. Late will finally come.” And then my friend will come up with his own estimate and whoever gets to the best guess wins. This has served me well especially if I’m waiting with children or with people I’m not very close to since it gives us something to talk about. We’ll get so caught up counting and making new bids that we’ll forget to be angry and frustrated about waiting for someone.

We all have ways of distracting ourselves when we’re waiting. Because in life, the more important something or someone is, the more difficult the wait is. We only ever really wait for the people we love. Otherwise, we’re just as likely to leave a note or send a message that we’ll see them at a more convenient time. It is only when we deeply desire or need something that we’re willing to put ourselves through the inconvenience of waiting (and working) for it. We do not make countdowns for nonessential matters. We do not need reminders for life-changing schedules. We will remember them on our own.

So we develop different forms and manners of waiting. The Catholic Church creates a structure to teach its faithful the art and sacrifice of waiting by calendaring the season of Advent to prepare for Christmas. We’re taught to wait for four weeks, to prepare our hearts and our homes to receive the One Person the whole world needs, whether the world recognizes this or not. So we decorate our homes, prepare our presents, and make plans with our loved ones. Except that sometimes, by distracting ourselves with all these activities to fill the time of waiting, we often lose track of what we’re waiting for and we often miss out on the necessary experience of waiting.

I’ve come to learn that waiting isn’t just passing time; it isn’t just standing by until something happens. True waiting is an experience of making peace with one’s emptiness. We wait for events to unfold, for hard work to bear fruit, for friendships to grow, for love to be returned because we know that until these happen, a deep part of ourselves will remain empty and unfulfilled. We wait for people we love because we know that without them we would be truly lonely.

This Advent season, unless we give ourselves time to wrestle with our emptiness, we will not be able to recognize what we are waiting for. If we do not give ourselves permission to be bored, frustrated, and empty, we will not be able to name the one thing we truly need. If we keep distracting ourselves by playing the waiting game, we will not be able to face the gnawing, driving need of desire. The desire which drives us to seek Him out among the poor and the needy, to hasten His coming by preparing a peaceful and generous heart, and to welcome His presence – which is the only thing that ever truly fills our souls.