The Waiting Place

A wise woman once told me that if no one else writes it you need to go ahead and write it.

I keep wondering why no one is writing about The Waiting Place.

You know that part in the book Oh the Places You’ll Go by Dr. Seuss – where he talks about you’re going to have to go to The Waiting Place. Every time I’ve ever read that book (which has been a lot of times), I’ve paused on that page and thought, “Oh I know that place. I don’t like that place. I hate being in The Waiting Place.”

But I also know that Dr. Seuss is right.

There are times in our lives where we have to be in The Waiting Place. We get there for lots of different reasons. Sometimes it’s because of our own ignorance. Sometimes it’s because we have a life lesson than that we just can’t seem to learn. Sometimes we get there because life is hard and sucks from time to time.

If I remind myself I have been in The Waiting Place, it all feels a little more familiar. 

In case you missed it, we are in The Waiting Place. Almost all of us are. 

When I have been to The Waiting Place in the past, I tried to rush through it. I wanted to get out of The Waiting Place as quickly as possible. I always wanted to be on the other side – beyond The Waiting Place so I can look back from a high hill and think, “Wow. Glad that’s over. No more waiting place for me. See ya.” 

That’s what I do and maybe you do, too. Just rush through this quicksand so we can get to the other side. What could go wrong?

But here’s the thing. 

The Waiting Place is not quicksand. I used to think it was, but now I think it is like a precious cocoon. We get there by doing something hard. Maybe it’s moving to a new place, going to college or graduate school, an engagement or a divorce. Maybe it’s a death of a dear friend or the job you didn’t get or the baby you lost or the baby you have or some other emotional and physical and social ball of mess all wrapped up in one. 

The Waiting Place always shows up when there is molting to be done.

The Waiting Place is there for a reason. 

When I last visited The Waiting Place, I did not know this. 

I did not know I could just wait. 

Yep. 

Just. Wait. 

And by waiting – just waiting – whatever wounds I was nursing would heal. It’s funny how that happens. The time passes whether I run through The Waiting Place or not. And one magical day I will see the Waiting Place behind me from that hill. And I will be equipped with something new. Something The Waiting Place taught me.

The bad part is, and I know this from experience too, you can land back at The Waiting Place if you don’t take the time to heal. Whatever your stuff is. Work on healing the stuff.

You see, The Waiting Place is designed for your own protection. Especially if you don’t think you need to be there.  

So here we are.

The Waiting Place knows me. And I know it. 

Instead of fighting it this time, I will just love it. 

I will wait. 

And read and write and talk and laugh.

And eat. And sleep. And love.

Because what else is there?