Edgework

“Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord” (Psalm 27:14).

Waiting does not come naturally to me. To be honest, I find waiting difficult. It is something I am still trying to learn as a senior. This past winter I discovered that I am, without question, a number three on the Enneagram; that is my basic orientation is to be an achiever. I love to dream up projects and then carry them through to completion with optimism, confidence and efficiency. So just waiting around for things to happen goes against my grain.

My inability to wait patiently was on full display in the past few months. For much of the past winter I had been intensely involved with a Task Force of three persons assigned by the Altona Community Action Network (ACAN) to manage a community garden on behalf of the Town of Altona. I had approached this volunteer project with all my usual energetic industriousness and had begun to feel deeply rewarded as the garden took shape. By the time planting began in the latter part of May we had rented out 57 plots, half of them to new immigrants. The town folk had responded generously in helping us set up a Commons area designed to resource gardeners and build community. Everything seemed to be on track for a successful summer of gardening in a multi-cultural context.

But then the rains needed for the garden to flourish did not come. The ground was dry and hard. Seeds had a hard time sprouting and plantings struggled to survive. Despite this handicap gardeners did their best to get started. On any given day they used up to 500 gallons of water to keep their young plants on life support. But even so for many it was impossible to get carrots, beets, kale and other vegetables with small seeds to germinate and take hold of life.

As the promised June rains kept skirting Altona, dropping generous amounts of water on other communities, I started to become impatient. Many times a day I checked the radar weather map and tried to predict which weather pattern would finally bring the much-needed rain to our garden. But always, it seemed, the systems teased me as they slipped by on either side – sometimes dropping just enough rain to wash the air but not enough to make a difference in the garden.

I think my wife, Ruth, was the first to recognize my inability to wait patiently for the rains to come. And then I caught myself complaining to fellow gardeners that for some reason we were not getting the rains needed in our common gardening endeavor. In a subtle way I was inviting them to participate with me in my impatience. Indeed, I thought, that if we don’t get rain soon the whole project will be a failure – a hard prospect to face for a number three achiever.

One day I told my Ruth that all my fussing and fuming at the computer, watching the rain pass us by, was not doing anyone any good. It did not steer the rain clouds our way but, instead, it was making me rather miserable. Here I was, a 71-year-old man, generating a dismal world for myself and my fellow gardeners all because I was unable to wait patiently for rain to come our way.

My mind went back to my growing-up-years on a mixed farm south of Kane in Southern Manitoba where my parents were trying to eke out a living on 400 acres of rented gumbo. As a child I was somewhat oblivious to the fact that my father’s livelihood depended on the rains to come by regularly. I suppose he must have been impatient too sometimes when the crops were withering out on the fields. After all, his ability to feed his seven children depended on a successful harvest. But it seems to me that “waiting for the rain” was a way of life and I think my father had learned to wait; at least I don’t recall him making our lives miserable with repeated complaints about rain skirting his fields.

But here I was, some sixty years later, unable to wait patiently for the rains even though my livelihood would not really have been threatened if the rains never came. I felt a gentle nudging in my spirit that this was to be a teaching time for me. God wanted to tend to some soul growth on my part whether the rains came or not. I began to see that my impatience of the past weeks had indeed been a sign of immaturity; that I still had room to grow at this stage of life – to learn to wait well.

So I determined to visit the weather maps less frequently and not to keep reminding my fellow gardeners that we were being singled out by the forces that be to deprive us of much-needed rain. I suppose you might describe the mood that settled within me as “resignation.” Resigned to the fact that my childish behavior was not bringing the rain, nor encouraging anyone. Resigned to the fact that the rain would come whether I groused about the situation or whether I simply waited for it. Resigned to the fact that the forces of nature were not seeking my advice or permission regarding rain patterns.

Along with the resignation came a sense of peace. I could be at peace even while I was waiting! And life became easier for me. Oh, we all kept pouring water our parched gardens but I was living in a freer space. And wouldn’t you know it – one morning I woke up to the realization that it had rained half an inch overnight. And within the next week we had another few showers all adding up to nearly two inches! And I had not drawn them in with my impatient mutterings at my computer.

Thank you, Lord, for teaching me to wait.