When the Wait Isn’t Over Yet
I’ve watched the sunrise at the beach multiple times. On vacations and weekends during college, I’d sneak away whenever possible to see the sun peak over the liquid horizon. Yet somehow, this morning was different. I let myself truly be still. Standing calmly on the balcony looking out at the blue, slowly-turning-pink edge of the earth, I saw the sunrise as a symbol of waiting.
Waiting for the sunrise begins before light is visible. Or maybe more accurately, it starts when light begins slipping away the night before. When we’re waiting, we are looking to see the light again. The light that had been so brilliant and life-giving. We hope it will come back. But in the meantime, the blackness takes over. A really dark space that gives us time to doubt our hope. Yet we keep waiting. Periodically, we glimpse a star, pin pointing that hope is still alive. So we wait a bit longer. And then we see it. Our stare cautiously lingers to confirm: the light is coming. It was coming the whole time, but we can see it now.
This morning, clouds added dimension to the brightening sky. There weren’t clouds yesterday morning. And isn’t that what we want most of the time? No clouds. Nothing hindering us from pure light. Pure beauty. Yet, if I were to compare the two sunrises, this morning’s was by far more compelling and beautiful. Because of the clouds. Clouds that can fog our way to the light and create shadows over the view below. But in the grandness of the sunrise, they reflect light and add elements of puffy lavender and wispy pink to an otherwise simply blue sky. And then the clouds blaze. The sun is just under the horizon. The wait is almost over. Fiery orange lights up the sky. The fire that once hurt us. The fire that we once struggled to fight through. The fire shows up and brings the sun. And the wait is over.
As a disclaimer, I want you to know that my wait isn’t over yet. Nor do I think I’m at the point where the sun is almost up. Right now, I’m in the blackness, seeing stars here and there that pin point my hope is valid. But every day is proof that the sun comes up eventually. Even after the darkest and stormiest of nights. So I’m still waiting. And if you’re here in the blackness with me, grab my hand. We’ll wait together.