Embracing the pause

Life often asks us to wait. This is a space to explore those moments, understanding that even in stillness, there is growth, purpose, and profound discovery. Join me in reflecting on the journey of waiting.

*The Art of Waiting*

I remember it clearly. Bright Sunday morning. For some reason we weren’t going to church physically that day — we were joining the service online instead.

I woke the kids up in time for breakfast because there’s a rule in our house: anyone who misses breakfast before service waits until the 2 hours are over. I try to keep the same reverence online as we would in the building.

That morning’s menu was my version of a power meal: smoothie fortified with milk powder and groundnuts, Nigerian buns, and biscuits. Healthy + a good dose of sugar. Exactly what young minds need. I love the combo, and the little ones love it even more.

I’d laid everything out, and my older son was hopping from foot to foot, pestering me before I’d even finished. He wanted his plate _now_. Just as I was about to say “go ahead,” I remembered the box of Danish cookies I could add.

I stepped away and told him, “Hold on a minute.”
Questions with a tiny edge of irritation followed me to the pantry: “Mom, why do I have to wait? But the food looks good enough! I want mine now!”

The moment they saw the cookies, the grumbling turned to smiles. Breakfast was ready.

I went back to what I was doing, and the Holy Spirit tapped me on the shoulder:
*“Did you hear yourself tell the kids to WAIT?”*

Me: “Yes Sir. I wanted to add something extra that I knew they’d love.”
Him: “How many times have I asked you to wait?”
Me: “I have no idea, Sir.”

Then He showed me what I’d never seen about waiting:

Waiting isn’t denial. It isn’t emptiness. It’s a chamber of preparation — a fertile interval where character is built and refined. To live well isn’t just knowing when to act. It’s having the wisdom to know when to wait wisely.

Waiting done in impatience fractures your attention. But fruitful waiting means gathering yourself in the moment. Enjoying the present. Building capacity and resilience for the future while looking forward to the assured tomorrow. It turns waiting from a burden into a presence, and turns you into the bigger, better version of you that’s about to be released.

It’s in these moments you cultivate the art of "becoming" — through reading, reflection, prayer, meditation. You grow even while confined. Until one day you burst forth, because your old space can’t hold you anymore.

God brings clarity about where He’s taking you. Your mind becomes resilient, unshakeable in who you are. You can endure the tension between intention and outcome without losing clarity or hope. Instead of forcing healing, learning, creation, or forgiveness, you give yourself the gift of time. And instead of a hurried process, you come out solid, like the lines of cooled lava.

But this was the line that broke me:
*“See how you wanted something extra for the kids even when they weren’t aware of it? In the time you trust Me and wait, know without doubt that it’s always for your good. No matter how beautiful what I have in front of you is, I can always make it better, bigger, greater. When you obey and wait, it’s a signal that you trust Me, trust My plans, trust My purpose, and trust that I can bring it to fruition.”*

Dearly beloved, what have you been waiting for that seems to have tarried too long? Do you trust that the One who made the promise is neither slack nor a liar? Do you judge Him faithful?

Learn to wait the right way. That’s how you prepare the ground the future will stand on.

_Selah. Pause and think.