...

i've been trying to be attuned to waiting -- in order to be fully present in the advent season.

as soon as i started to try to attend to the times that i had to wait, i realized something about my life: its very religious.

somehow or another, the guy (me) who labelled watches "institutional handcuffs" and stubbornly refused to believe in time -- lives in a world where his life is so carefully organized that not only does he always know what to expect next. But he also always seems to be able to orchestrate that next whatever right now.

i'm not sure what's wrong with that yet, but I'm sure that something is.

so we were putting up the christmas tree last night and we have this family tradition that on the night we put up our christmas tree -- we order pizza. so we did.

i happened to glance out the window and noticed that the pizza delivery minivan (go figure!) was parked on everhard road -- the road in front of our house. Those of you who have visited know that NO ONE parks on the side of everhard. There's no place to park, but there he was, turning on his hazards, traffic backing up behind him before he could even open the door.

Apparently he had second thoughts, because his hazards went off, the car edged forward. And he disappeared.

But I had been waiting for him at the door. I was eager to receive the pizza, hand him the check and let him run back out to his car before he caused a major pileup in front of our house. But what happened now? Had he pulled just a little bit forward? Should I stay? Wait?

I paced from window to window for more than ten minutes. Ten minutes, when you're convinced that something is IMMINENT, is a long time. I walked into the living room and watched Lynn pulling out boxes of ornaments, listened to J & A make up elaborate stories between nativity characters involved in some custody battle (seriously. that was the jist of their playful invention). I should help Lynn. I should set the table with paperware. I should wait by the door, just in case he comes zipping up. I should...

Where is he!?

And I realize that I'm waiting. So I look around inside my interior world to see what waiting is like. It's like: annoyance. It's like: eagerness. It's like: imbalance, the moment just before a forward fall, but after you've committed too far to the lean...only oddly enough, it feels like you're stuck in that precarious, uncontrollable not this/not that. Almost/Not Quite.

Waiting doesn't feel mostly hopeful (even though I am -- Pizza as Messiah seems a potent metaphor at the moment). Waiting doesn't feel spiritual or good. It feels like C'Mon Already.

Addison these days asks about what's going to happen next all the time. He wants to know "How we get home?" "How we get there?"' "How you coming back?" "How I get that thing?" etc....

So I try to be honest and forthright as I leave and I give him an answer in terms of hours or occasionally days. His answer is so standard, that I can say it along with him.

"No. No. TWO minutes. You be back in TWO minutes."

And now Lynn and I are resigned -- we say, you're right -- in Addison time, we will be back in two minutes. But two mintes. You can't get anything done that fast (I feel like telling him). But on the other hand -- he can't imagine a world that's much bigger than the emotional terrain of exactly two minutes.

where did he learn that anyway?

peace~