The "Waiting Room" Season

Some days I find myself pacing the floor, my mind moving a million miles a second. I’m not anxious. I’m not worried. I just feel like I’m waiting on something. That something I can’t explain. I honestly don’t know what it is — but I do know it’s something.

Maybe I’m waiting for peace.
Or closure.
Direction.
Permission.
Or maybe I’m waiting for a new version of myself to arrive.

I’m learning that this kind of waiting doesn’t come with instructions. There’s no sign on the wall telling me how long I’ll be here or what happens next. I can’t rush it. I can’t fix it. I can’t force clarity to show up before it’s ready. This season has slowed me down and stripped away my usual distractions, leaving me with nothing but honesty — and that kind of honesty can feel unsettling when you’re used to surviving by staying busy.

This season feels like sitting in a doctor’s office. You’re waiting quietly, half-aware of time, half-lost in your thoughts. Then the door opens and, for a moment, your heart lifts — this must be me. But another name is called. Someone else stands up, walks through the door, and you realize it isn’t your turn yet. So you sit back down and wait again.

That’s what this season feels like. Moments when I think, this is it, only to be reminded that I’m still here. Still waiting. Not because I’ve been forgotten, but because something hasn’t finished forming yet.

I used to think waiting meant nothing was happening. Now I wonder if it’s the very place where things are quietly being rearranged — where old versions of me are being laid down and something new is taking shape beneath the surface, even if I can’t see it yet.

Maybe the waiting room isn’t a punishment.
Maybe it’s preparation.
And maybe just because it isn’t my turn yet doesn’t mean it never will be.

I know my time is coming. This waiting has done more than slow me down — it’s awakened expectancy. I believe something meaningful is being prepared, something designed with me in mind. So I’m choosing to learn the language of this season, to sit here without bitterness, to enjoy the waiting room while I can. Because what’s ahead feels like movement — and once it arrives, waiting won’t be an option.

-ToniRay

What are you waiting for — and what might this season be preparing you for? ⏳