Life isn't a bunch of crêpes m'dear, or is it?

The heat rose to my face as if I had been assailed by a thousand unexpected compliments, but really it was just the heat from the stove making my face turn rosy. A fan nearby blew an occasional wisp of cool air my way as I danced around the stove, lifting, peering, checking to see if they were ready. A white apron that was tied around my waist received a hurried ruffling as I wiped off my buttery hands. My black boots were innocent bystanders occasionally splattered with batter.

I was making crêpes.

Poppleton's, the bakery and cafe that I work at, is famous for them, and today was the day that I learned the art crêpe making.

But just like any art, it has one special technique. It's a technique that many are eager to discover, yet few willingly embrace. Nevertheless, it is a necessary technique, and if you don't embrace it, it shall embrace you.

It's called Waiting.

Are they browned enough? Cooked enough? No, no. You must wait. So wait I do, and though it's a relatively quick wait in comparison to other waiting situations, I can't help but connect the dots.

You see, I've been doing lots of waiting around here recently.

Waiting for February to be over, waiting for Winter to be over, waiting for the crêpes to be cooked and the intersection light to say "walk", waiting for midterms to be done and waiting for school to be done, waiting to hear news about family members, waiting to hear news about myself.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. And in all this waiting I hear one sweet refrain, like the sound of a bird outside your window when you least expect it:

Wait for the Lord, be strong, and let your heart take courage, wait for the Lord!

Is this what waiting on the Lord looks like? A step-by-step journey during which you put a foot out in front of you and you don't see where it will land but faith sees that He's got you? A pouring of batter on a hot skillet, a twirling motion of the hand, and then several moments as you await the flame to work its magic? Oh Lord, let that flame work. I certainly don't feel like I'm going through the fire, it's so cold. So so cold. But perhaps this is what it looks like...a refining in the moments when I feel like the least work is being done, a building up of trust as I hold to the Lord and strengthen my heart in His promises. 

The beautiful thing is that He's already being faithful. Just as He always is. I hear that bird, I smell those crêpes, I look up and see the light shining through the bakery doorway, I look in and see the light of the Son shining in me. 

The foundation built in the hard months will stand strong in the months of abundance. There shall be no weakening of hands, no ease of knees that forget the feeling of hard floor underneath when Summertime comes. And in the moments when I've questioned why bad things happen or why somethings don't happen at all, He questions me: would you still come, would you still long for My presence and desire Me? Would you still seek Me and yearn for Me in the morning and throughout the day? Would you be desperate for Me? 

I search my heart. "Maybe...Father, I pray that I would! For I am always desperate for You." But I know myself better than that, I know that I sometimes treat God as a Doctor and only go to Him when something needs fixing. So I am thankful. Thankful that He taught me and is teaching me as He always is. I pray that, when the waiting is over, (which it won't ever entirely be till He comes), I will seek Him and desire to see His beauty just as much as ever before. Because God's more than a vending machine, He's my Father.

And if the fathers of this world who are evil know how to give good gifts to their children, how much more so will not the Father of Heaven give good gifts to those who ask? 

My Father, for You I wait.