Count It All Joy.

I stare out the window watching the snowflakes slowly fall, and my mind is suddenly on top of my Nonna's rooftop in Italy. I usually sit there and take photographs of the setting sun behind the vast mountains.
 
The air smells of burnt wood and summertime. I lift myself off the terracotta tiles and slowly climb off the roof onto the little balcony. I pull out a notebook and pencil tucked deep inside my worn out leather messenger bag and begin to write.

I write of the beauty of this place, how when I'm here it's hard to imagine anywhere or anything else in the world exists, and suddenly...

I'm whisked back by two tiny finger taps on my shoulders. A small squeaky voice wearing a Ninja Turtles shirt holds up a book to me and says, "Can can you wead this to me?"

I sit myself on a wooden rocking chair designed for toddlers and he sits himself on my lap, his little light up sneakers dangling off the side of my legs. And I begin to read about Space Shuttle Sammy and his adventures.

We all wait. It seems everyone is waiting on something. For that dream job, for that test result, for vacation, for school to end, for that special someone to come around, for our workday to end, for the weekend.

Wait.
 
I think it's one of the hardest words to really accept. I don't think we ever really grow out of disliking it. Whether its waiting our turn for the swing during recess, or waiting for our number to be called at the deli.

Us and wait don't go well together.

And yet, somehow in the midst of these little hands and smiling cheeks... I see Him.

Stumbling my foot over toy trucks scattered around the room. Grace. Having a who can make an angrier face with an upset child face off. Grace. Cleaning up milk and cookie crumbs after snack. Grace. Helping to build the world's tallest Lego's castle, so that the evil piggies won't attack. Grace.

Some days it's easy. Some days it's hard. And I don't really understand it.

But even though I may not be where I want to be, I feel God's presence with me. I'm starting to think maybe this stuff, the waiting, the trials, the whys and whens... it's all preparing us for where we're headed.

I hear Him whisper, Hey I'm not letting go... so don't you let go.

And maybe, just maybe for right now... I'm exactly where I need to be. 

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you face trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces patience.// James 1:2-3