​Vocatus atque non vocatus Deus aderit

    Waiting is never a passive act. Waiting (I believe) does not happen in isolation. Waiting is measured in time that is not known as chronos, but instead measured in kairos time. Chronos  time is one that can be measured. It's the moments we keep looking at our watches, crossing off days on calendars. One way of understanding kairos time is when a seed is planted in the ground and nourished. The exact moment that the sprout comes up through the ground cannot be timed but happens nonetheless. Waiting is kairos time because when we are in it, time seems to fall away. Too slow. Too fast. No longer watch or calendar - measurable, instead measured by our hearts. 

       Called or not called God is present.

    There are times of hopeful waiting and there are times of desperate waiting.  There are times of private waiting and times of communal waiting. There is waiting that happens in silence and waiting that happens in chaos. In all of it, each moment of it, God is with us, God is present.

      One of the things I do at the hospital where I work is to give tours of the cardiac floor to parents and families who are waiting during their child’s time in surgery. I show them where they can get snacks and where the bathrooms are. I walk them through the ICU. I show them the library. And most every time I talk with them about some of the best waiting places. “If you’re a pacer,” I say to them, “then this is the best hallway.” “If you need to sit in quiet,” I tell them, “then this is a good one, one of the most hidden corners of the hospital.” I tell them all about the garden, “It’s a circle,“ I say, “you can’t get lost. And in this garden, look around. You can find beauty in most every corner.” Most everybody seems grateful to hear about these places and to keep them in their back pockets if they ever need them. 

       Called or not called God is present.

       Tonight is the night of the New Moon. As with so many things new, the new moon can't yet be seen. The new moon is there even when/especially when it can't be seen. New things happen often in the dark. New things can't be seen by many and sometimes just by one or possibly not seen at all.  The new moon is much like this. On nights of the new moon, it seems as though we are in total darkness.  And yet, and yet we know that the moon is there. Even in what appears to be total darkness, there is light. For this time it is hidden, but it is still there. Vocatus atque non vocatus Deus aderit. 

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(thanks Susie Gentry for this picture)