I love Disneyland. Always have, probably always will. Therefore I do not mind waiting two hours to ride Space Mountain.. But put me behind a Springfield driver on Wednesday evening, and every ounce of patience disappears. I hate being behind slow drivers. Why do I have this character flaw of impatience?
I thought of several reasons today. What it primarily comes down to is that I am afraid of missing out. When I am behind a slow driver, I fear they will make me late (I will not rant here about tardiness). While at Disneyland, I know the waiting gets me to the front of the line. But in the rest of life - I don't have that guarantee. If I have to wait, one of my greatest fears could come true. What if I end up missing out?
This fear really took hold in college. I went to a Christian university where the importance of a ring on a girl's finger by graduation day seemed to be preached whenever chapel services featured alum. There were brother-floors and the obligatory Get-Your-Roommate-A-Date once a year. I graduated with honors, but ring-less and no boyfriend on the horizon. You are missing out, echoed in my mind. It didn't matter that I had a job lined up, and that I was moving to parts unknown across the country - a great adventure. The idea that I was missing out and that I would have to wait for "the one" made me feel like a failure.
I was a pretty good girl. A smart girl,. A girl who loved Jesus. I knew other girls who didn't have to wait, and some of those girls didn't appear to love Jesus as much as I did. Why didn't they have to wait? The comparison trap gripped my soul. I was twenty-two, living by myself and trying to walk by faith. I thought maybe now, out in the Arizona desert, "the one" would magically appear. But God was holding out on me for some reason and making me wait.
And I didn't like it one bit...
(to be continued)