Seems like we’re always waiting for something, or someone. Waiting for doctors, hair dressers, buses, waiting in line, waiting on hold; even waiting for our ship to come in. (What do you want to bet the day my ship comes in I’ll be waiting at a bus stop?)

At the moment I am waiting for the arrival of my 6^th grandchild, a girl. A tardy girl at that! I am on call to look after her 2 year old sister and their dog when labour starts so I can’t commit to any long projects for fear I’ll have to run on a moments notice. Her due date now past she has seriously disrupted my pickling schedule. I make dill pickles in August, without fail, so for this new one to mess with my schedule is, I think, unreasonable. Doesn’t she know, cucumbers wait for no one? They can overgrow on the vine in a matter of hours, and once picked, need to be pickled within 24 hours lest they get soggy. (If I end up with soggy pickles,,,,,,it’ll be on your head, little one!)

We wait for mail. We wait for meals. We wait for friends. Enough already! Why do we have to wait for anything? (I’m all for instant gratification)  Waiting requires patience, and patience requires us to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset: That’s unreasonable. If patience really is a virtue, I am most unvirtuous.

For some the waiting is pleasant (although I can’t imagine how)  for others not so much. Those waiting to die, for example. The elderly, the ill; those clinging to life unaware of the world around them. I suppose one day we’ll all be in Gods’ waiting room, and I guess I should be grateful that, at the moment, my waiting is in anticipation of a lovely new life.

That said, I have jars, spices and 40 pounds of pickles waiting for me, so get the lead out kiddo and stop holding my pickles hostage!