Last Friday as D and I were walking around downtown OKC waiting on one of my appointment times to come around, a street crossing sign spoke to me. I mean it. It really did.
The signs tell you how many seconds you have left to cross the street before a car comes flying down it and squishes you like a beetle. After the timer goes to 1 it starts telling you to “wait …. wait”.
For some strange reason, I took that warning to heart on that day.
For the past five years, I’ve been hoping and praying on a nearly daily basis that a miracle will happen in my life that will turn everything around. Something that will help me move past my criminal charges and let me find a job that I am destined for. Something that will help me get out of this horrific debt. Something that will change my whole perception of life and help me to sleep at night. Something. Anything.
… but the street sign says differently … that I must wait
No, I’m not a complete whack job and don’t really believe that street signs are talking to me specifically (because we all know that that’s what the trees are for), but at that moment it hit me that I need to listen.
I don’t know when “my time” is coming, but I do know that all of this worrying about it isn’t going to change things.
I have to wait for God (or the Universe or the magical unicorns) to line things up just so … for the right time.
I have to wait.
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