advent whispers

On this crisp winter’s morning
Waiting for a train.
Gazing in the direction of its coming -
Anticipating.
An announcement over the tannoy,
A promise of imminent arrival.
Train stopping – for me...
Stepping in, finding a resting place.
Waiting again –
But now with a destination.
A new perspective through train windows
In an ever-changing, fast-moving panorama.
A fresh sense of wonder at the beauty
As sunlight breaks through grey over Belfast.
Stopping only to bring others along on this journey...

I heard whispers of advent this morning.

waiting with murray

I hadn’t heard much about Andrew Murray until this summer. And I’m not talking about the tennis player. I drove past a statue of him in Wellington, South Africa this summer on a mini road trip. Then he was the answer to a random question in a South African Trivial Pursuit game played in a wee backpackers. (We played for hours huddled up outside with our blankets and hot water bottles in Oudtshoorn, SA - the ostrich capital of the world apparently... I also learned the important information that day that ostriches eat stones!) The third time Murray came up was on my dad’s bookshelf in Nigeria. I always raid my dad’s hundreds of books when I’m at home and this summer was no exception. I read a book called Waiting on God by Murray (which I discovered is only one of his 240+ books). Much of what he said resonated with me. It seems like he had such a heart for abiding in/waiting on God... Talking about waiting he said this:

“This is the one thing we need. If we but saw our God in his love, if we believed that he waits to be gracious, that he waits to be our life and to work all in us—how this waiting on God would become our highest joy, the natural and spontaneous response of our hearts to his great love and glory.”

dream deferred?

A Dream Deferred
by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up

like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore--

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over--

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

I remember reading this poem first when I was 17. I remember thinking that I didn’t really understand what he was talking about. I supposed at that age, I was just beginning to dream… I read this in the context of a play that I loved: A Raisin in the Sun.
I have days now, though, that I do feel as if some of my dreams have been deferred. I don’t know if it’s because I’m still a student and feel as if I’m always looking towards finishing this phase of my life…(even though I'm loving my classes at the minute!) But then sometime I think that my dreams were (and maybe are) so short-sighted and that I’m so impatient. What is the hurry? Why can’t I fully live in the present with all that is happening and all that I know God is teaching me. It comes back to the idea of ‘waiting for the Lord’. But then sometimes I wonder if my dreams are really just my dreams and that I need to be willing to wait for Him to show me what his dream is for me…
As long as in my waiting, I don't let dreams dry up like "a raisin in the sun . . ."