St. Paul, along with the rest of Christendom in the second century, was waiting for the Christ to return. Today we are still waiting. Waiting.
I realized tonight that my life is not "incomplete." I am waiting to hear about jobs. I am waiting to meet the right person. I am waiting. But this waiting is living. It is living everyday with the tension of unconsummated experience, with the tension of unfulfilled expectation. But it is still life, living.
I am not a patient person; I want what I want now. This is a cross more than any virtue. I want the Christ to come back. I want to know my future. I want to be settled. But that might not happen anytime soon. So rather than always scanning the horizon for something that isn't here, maybe I should start looking at what's before me, at what's beautiful and unfinished. Appreciate my time, being single,embrace my writer's block and the winter, and having a body which is still healing from the accident. Consecrate my uncertainty.
Jesus said "come to me you who are burdened." Well, here I am Lord. In the words of Mickey Rourke, "an old broken down piece of meat." Not really. But still a beautiful line from The Wrestler. How about "a broken down hunk of uncertainty?" Like the little drummer boy, with no gift to bring.