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Sometimes it is as if time itself stands still. Stands still and waits.

It waits as we wait for a late one to come home. It waits as we wait for the telephone to ring with a measure of reassurance. It waits for a door to open; a door to close.

It waits for a decision to be made; a verdict handed down; a granting, a rejection. It waits for a miracle that whatever we fear will not come to pass.

It waits for a dawning of a new day after a long, lonely night. It waits outside operating rooms, and beside hospital beds.

It waits and we wait and we cannot pick-up the threads of our life until we are caught up with the event and come face to face with it.

Until such time, O Lord, give us the patience to endure the waiting; give us the confidence that we can face whatever we encounter. Give us the strength to accept or overcome.

Give us, O Lord, time as a friend.

Over the course of several years, my grandmother wrote over 60 invocations. Originally, I thought they were read during Friday night services, but I suspect they were only heard by a handful of people at the Emanuel Seniors meetings, held at Temple Emanu El in Burbank, California.

Not wanting these invocations to be hidden away, one day to end up in a recycling bid, I started publishing them on my blog. While my intention is to publish one a week, I often get sidetracked, caught up in work and daily demands.

Sometimes, however, I get a sudden urge to share the next invocation in the series. More often than not, what my grandmother wrote is highly pertinent to what’s currently happening in my life. This invocation is no exception.

I’m in a holding pattern. Waiting for the next shoe to drop in the care of my mother. Waiting to find out what twists my career will take. Waiting to see the design from the architect hired to sketch out the house we’re wanting to build on the lot we purchased eight years ago. Waiting to see if we’ll have the resources to build the house. And waiting (and hoping) that Rich’s job lasts until he can retire in a few years.

Waiting.

It’s sad because one of the keys to happiness isn’t waiting. It’s enjoying every moment as if it’s your last. It’s relishing the small things like seeing a sunrise through the morning mist. Laughing at the pink-toed opossum that eats dog food off our deck. It’s snugging with a cat. Warm coffee with plenty of cream. Red pears and orange pumpkins. It’s delighting in the fall colors. And kissing your husband in the morning, and wishing him sweet dreams at night.

And yes, it’s the confidence to face whatever we encounter, and the strength to accept what we cannot change.

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