In a holding pattern. Waiting. Not-knowing. These are things I’m not very good at.
Waiting on test results makes me alternately anxious and cranky. I imagine worst-case scenarios, my mind a wild, undisciplined child on a sugar high soaring up-up-up. The inevitable spectacular crash follows. With tears. Lots and lots of tears.
But wait is all I can do.
Wait on the cardiologist’s review of Jool’s echocardiogram.
Wait on Katie’s blood test results. (Is she a good dieter, or is she sick??)
Because you don’t belong to me.
And neither do you.
God has trusted me to care for you, to love you, to make sure you have plenty of dogs to torment and things to rip to shreds. But only for a little while.
However long that little while is, I’ll take it.