The meditative insight this morning is that there is no such thing as waiting.  Only walking.  Rumi says: Keep walking, but there is no place to go.  No destination–thank goodness.  Only a path that can be a thrill from step to tiniest step.

Prickly bushes now toasting the spots of sun with green, coral and black berries.  All walking at their own pace.  Roots like snakes ready to trip me.  Slow stepping with steady respect for each well-placed foot.  Or not.

Walk while sweating.  Walk with tears.  Under a wasp’s nest, into a glacial river, slow in the shade, slinking from the sun.  One puzzle piece at a time.  Nothing to do and all day to do it.

Sometimes even God just wants to indulge in a day reading a good book.