Yesterday was Sunday, and because Sundays do not count in the 40 days of Lent scheme, I did not blog.  What I did do in church yesterday was to help our children plant tomato and squash seeds.  They were not excited about eating squash, but planted them anyway.  We poked the tiny seeds down in the soil in peat pots and then watered them with water from the baptismal font.  I moved the pots to the window sill in my office where it is often sunny.  Now we wait for enough sun to help the seeds sprout.  The question for today, will there be anything for the children to see next Sunday?  Or will the waiting continue? 

Sometimes the waiting is the hardest part of our lives.  Waiting nine months for the birth of a baby is joyous but full of questions.  Waiting while a loved one has surgery is always better if there is another person to wait with you.  Waiting in line to renew a driver’s license or to mail a package can be an opportunity to revel in the variety of humankind God has placed in God’s garden.  Waiting for the death of a loved one is the worst—we wait for the end hoping it will come soon and end the pain, but really we would wait longer if we could because we know that at the end of our waiting there is sorrow that will take its own time to heal.