I wanted it now—not later. Not sometime when.
I tapped on my desk and click-clicked my pen.
“Why must I wait?” I said with a huff and a sigh,
While the minutes marched and time slipped by.
I stared at the clock like a pot that was cold,
“Come on,” I said. “Boil! Do what you’re told.”
But pots don’t boil when you glare and pout—
You must turn on the heat, without a doubt.
Some folks will idly sit and complain all day.
Others drive in a speed-limit-breaking way.
But patience as we write is neither extreme.
We walk with God while we work and dream.
Abraham once hurried God’s promise along,
He meant well, but boy, did it ever go wrong.
When timing is forced, things twist and collide,
And trouble moves in for an impatient ride.
Some dates are fixed, like the end of the year,
And Christ’s final win? That day is surely near.
Your waiting won’t change what God’s has in place,
But it will shape your heart and strengthen your pace.
So write while you’re waiting. Pray, listen, and prepare.
Keep your hands on the keyboard. Just type. Don’t stare.
Each paragraph finished, though humble and small,
Is God gently saying, “You’re right on the call.”
For all that God gives is worth waiting with yearning,
With trust in your steps and a heart that keeps learning.
So keep on marching while you wait. Don’t freeze.
A patient walk with him can be a rewarding breeze.
