Twenty Minutes

The cutest little midwife stretches the string over my belly and announces
“Twenty minutes!”


I wish it was just twenty minutes instead of seven weeks. I really do. But like my mom said once, “Life is made up of waiting seasons. Once one is past, you find yourself waiting in the next.”

I’ve never been a patient person. I tend to plow ahead and make things happen. But growing babies and developing characters and learning to listen to the Holy Spirit’s whispering forces me to slow down.

To pause.
To take that deep breath and agree, even when I don’t feel it, that waiting is good.

So pull up a chair with me.
Watch the sun set.
Sip your coffee slowly.
There is beauty in the waiting season.

Even if it is just for twenty minutes.

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