i have an old leather journal my friend brought back from italy my senior year of high school.
i wrote john mayer lyrics in it at first, then sonnets from that shakespeare class i took my first year of college. when the dogwoods were enchanting and every walk to that old brick building was pretty. then, somewhere in that span of time after college and before now, i wrote a quote along the lines of "everything will be okay in the end. if it isn't okay, it isn't the end." i thought it was the sweetest thought. such optimism!
but as i was making the bed yesterday morning, i thought about that. waiting for the end. waiting until that day when it's all okay. when i don't stammer or when my grandfather isn't sick anymore. holding out for a change in course, a veer to the right that will straighten out to a direct path of delightfulness. not death, mind you. just a moment when that challenge is over. a sunny weekend morning when nothing is on our plate or hanging over our shoulders.
but what about the in-between? the moments of struggle and perseverance. the late nights and early morning prayers. the search. those are beautiful too and they might slip by if we discount them as time spent reaching toward the "end." the time when we can rest. collapse into an overstuffed arm chair, content. i spent so much time last night wrapping up my homework so i could relax. so i could sit on the couch and watch my strange addiction and veg out for a minute.
i worked so hard it was almost midnight before i looked up. or rather, looked down. pablo had been lying on the hard wood floor with a toy in his mouth the entire time. waiting to play. i reached down to pick up the little stuffed elephant and threw it across the hall, yelling fetch. the tired pup just dragged his sleepy self to bed.
it's okay now. it's gorgeous now. and if it's not, time will reveal that maybe the hard part was the beautiful part of it, after all. chalk it up to my impatience and inability to wait, but this isn't one-day. it's monday and it's waiting on me.