Just ask any woman swollen with child: The passing of time only makes her bigger.
Just ask any wee-watt waiting on her birthday: The passing days heighten frenzied excitement.
And outside my window, maple trees shimmy in the wind while apple green leaves flush to pinkish red. Every passing day enlarges my expectancy towards full bloom fall.
Without fail, something grows during every waiting time. Sometimes we see it in front of our nose and sometimes we feel it under our skin. But when we don’t see or feel it, we can still be sure God is using the waiting to grow something more beautiful in and around us.
The waiting does not diminish us. It may diminish something we need to get rid of like unbelief or pride or selfish ambition. But we are guaranteed a joyful expectancy in our waiting.
I easily forget but it’s true: The waiting time is a gift, and it’s just one more way believing is seeing.