I wanted to write, but the timing felt wrong.
So I stared at the page for much too long.
“I’ll wait till I’m ready,” I told myself twice,
While my coffee grew cold and thoughts turned to ice.
I waited for signs and a whisper or clue,
For thunder or lightning or skies turning blue.
But nothing came loudly, no trumpet or shout,
Just stillness and silence and lingering doubt.
Then softly I heard from the back of my brain,
“Don’t wait for the sun. Just write in the rain.
God gave you a story, a message to share,
Sit and do what you can, writing with his care.”
I scribbled and scratched, then started to type,
A sentence, a paragraph, without any hype.
The waiting, I learned, was not sitting still.
It trained me to listen and shaped my will.
Some writers keep waiting for green lights and cheers,
But waiting is still faith in action through all the years.
It’s listening deeply and praying each day,
With hands on the keyboard when words drift away.
So don’t fear the silence or moments unsure.
The wait is the classroom where trust grows mature.
God’s not being quiet to punish or tease.
He’s growing your voice like roots of big trees.
Waiting is not being lazy. You’re learning to grow,
As you do the work that the Spirit will show.
And when the right moment at last comes in view,
You’ll find what you’re writing is God’s writing too.
