Friday, August 28, 2009


I am waiting.

Waiting to creep out from under my parent’s words that rain over me like hail. For the finger prints of their holding to be released and the bruising to heal.Waiting for the cocoon to open, for the wings to emerge, for the wind that dries them and for the hope that strengthens their veins.

I am waiting for the boy I have met to become the man I will marry.

Waiting for the years we will travel. The years when no place is home. The times when the only place that is home is the blueness of his eyes and our hands entwined.

I am waiting for the day we decided the two of us should become three. Waiting to be blessed. Waiting to be told I cannot. I should not. What sort of a mother would I make? Waiting to tell those doctors they were wrong. I can. We did. I will be.

I am waiting to hold him. Little fingers wrapping around mine. A glimpse of his father and touch of me. The breath of my future when I am long gone.

I am waiting to take him home. To wrap him close beside me on the plane as we travel the millions of oceans back to Australia. Waiting for his daddy to join us. Waiting to go back to the place where the two of us started, and the three of us will make a life.

I am waiting for his first words, first steps, all his firsts and my firsts, and together, our firsts. As a mother, as a family and as us.

I am waiting for the music that plays when he’s asleep and we have just each other to hold again. Waiting for the father’s day when I tell him we are expecting another. Waiting for the Christmas morning when we find out that our baby will be a little brother.

Waiting for the night we almost don’t make it to the hospital, and all the days after that I struggle with two boys and no sense of me.

I am waiting for the year I do not cope. Waiting for the unraveling. For the year I finally curl around myself and say enough, I need help.

I am waiting to find her. That voice like surging water that speaks into places others have not. For the ears that finally hear what I have been screaming my whole life. Waiting to peel back the times and memories.

I am waiting for the woman inside me to emerge, and for the man who lays beside me to stand.

I am waiting for the day we lay in bed, quietly tangled in each other’s arms, long after the storms of that previous year and look back and say, “Not everyone has this, do they? What we have… not everyone has this.”

I am waiting for that feeling of flight that comes when you finally see those wings hanging on the end of you bed. Waiting for the morning I get up and know how to put them on. Waiting to be me.

I am waiting for the day I look at my sons and can say with pride in myself, “I am their mother.”

I am waiting for the moment I realize we have had our last baby and our family is complete.

I am waiting for the words I write to be birthed into this world. For the things I feel to have meaning for someone other than me.

I am waiting to see my family holding my writing. I am waiting for the day my little ones can read it. Can understand for themselves. Can see how long the fight was, how trying the anticipation, and how determinedly I said, “I am waiting.”

What about you? What does waiting look like in your life? What are you waiting for? And why do you bother?


  1. If your memoir reads like this... you won't have to wait long.

    Crazy beautiful.

    Waiting: I am waiting to find out what my favorite color is. What my name is. Who I am when I stand apart.

  2. Suzanne is right, and I will be first in line to purchase it! Exquisite writing, Tabitha. And so moving. I want more more more. This was just a tease.
    I am so honored you actually went to find my book and found it in Australia? Wow. And yes, yes, yes, email to your heart's content with questions, concerns, comments, whatever. I would be so happy to help you.

  3. So beautiful.

    I had never thought of myself as waiting. But I will try.

    Waiting: I am waiting for the quiet. A time when the outside world stays apart from my peace.

  4. That is poetry, so lyrical and haunting.
    Waiting: Because I still hope.

  5. Stunning writing.

    I am waiting for the real me, who I have supressed for so long, to dig her way out so she can emerge the way she needs to be.

  6. So beautifully written!

    But I'm thinking, as I read it, of an old quote: "Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain."

    Often when we get there, we wonder why we didn't enjoy the journey more.

  7. Thank you so much Suzanne. I love that line you wrote, " I am waiting to find out who I am when I stand apart." Oh, I like that. Me too! Me too!

    Thank you Karen. I was thrilled to find your book. I will take you up on that emailing :)

    Helen, beautiful line. "I am waiting for ...a time when the outside world stays apart from my peace." Really like that one.

    Tricia- thank you. Yes, I am with you, I am waiting because I still hope too.

    Liza, welcome. Thank you. Love your line.

    Steph, I am up for some dancing in the rain. How I love the rain! :)

  8. Tabitha--

    This was beautiful! I really enjoyed reading it!

    I'm waiting to reach that place where I can look back and realize that I walked through it all--the struggles and triumphs--in peace.

  9. That was great! I'm waiting for a lot of things, but most specifically right now, I'm waiting to see my writing on shelves in bookstores and libraries everywhere!

  10. This is so beautiful! I'm with the others that if your memoir reads like this, you won't be waiting long. It was just lovely. Wonderful.

    I'm waiting on an agent, have been waiting over a year, but she's worth it. :-)

  11. I'm waiting to find out who I am and why I matter. The things I will change while I'm alive and the people who'll remember when I'm not.
    I'm waiting to find out if God keeps His promises and whether I'll feel ashamed for doubting.
    I'm waiting to fall in love and be caught. I'm waiting to write something that changes lives. Or at least my own.

  12. Your post was absolutely beautiful. I'm so glad I get to read your words.

  13. Sounds like you've made waiting into a beautiful, pleasurable experience!

  14. This is the best blog post I've read today--and I've read a lot. You actually made me want to wait for something!


  15. Tab that is beautiful. I'm waiting to see how my life will unfold, waiting for when my kids are old to ask my did you do those things mum and I can look at all 3 of them and say my darlings I did what was best for them and me. And look how wonderful our lives have turned out. There can be and will be hard times but there will also be some wonderful fun times to have as well.
    Tab you are such a wonderful writer and friend and I am truly bless to be able to call you my friend.

  16. Something about your prose grabs a hold of me, then takes me along...a soothing melody. I love your voice.

    My waiting? I'm waiting for the opportunity to stay home and write full time. And currently, as in, right now...I'm waiting for my headache to go away.

  17. I want more! You are truly a literary artist. I'm amazed at your talent. I guess now I'm waiting for you to get published. =)

  18. Shelley, thank you oh so much girl. And I feel the same. I am blessed to call you friend.

    Katie, thanks :) I hope you get that opportunity. I have loved my choice to do exactly that since having my second bub. But it can be a hard choice and it isn't always easy to make it work, I really understand that one:)

    I hope your headache passes too. Have a good weekend.

    T.Anne, oh wow. Thanks. Brought a tear . A good tear:) Just the encouragement I need to go back and rework my first memoir.

  19. WOW you guys. You have no idea how much your words mean. Thank you and I am humbled to share my words with you guys considering that you are all amazing writers in your own rights, many of you waiting on agent call backs and even publishing contracts. I am hoping to hear that good news from anyone of you at any time. Thanks again. You have blessed my weekend beyond belief :)

  20. That is incredibly moving and engaging prose, Tab. Superbly written, a masterful and touching use of the english language. You have a gift, most certainly. :)

  21. Thank you Jamie. And thanks for visiting.

    Thank you Deb and Elizabeth :)

  22. Tab,

    Jesus has persistently whispered in my ear for 3 years his longing for me to 'rest in Him and wait patiently' (psalms 37:7). In my waiting there has been pain and joy. Your words, as they so often do, open my own longings to the light and draw out the wisdom from all those times when I have waited. I wait now... knowing life will always offer opportunites to wait. And in each 'Waiting time' my God invites me to rest with Him, to enjoy the journey, to breath deeply the smell of roses and to wait with anticipation and longing for all the desires of my heart and the fulfilment of all good promises. Blessings to you Tab... from one wise women to another, Esther

  23. Esther, firstly, wow! And Thank you. I just re-read what I wrote in light of what you said, realizing how many times I have been still. How I have waited in both joy and pain and how I can and do survive and thrive through times when waters are still. I don't think I pulled that out for myself the first time around. Guess I just wrote what was attached to a thread inside. I wonder where I might have learnt to do that?! :)

    Thanks for your comments because, as usual, they add to what I have written.

  24. Beautiful as always!!

    I'm waiting for God to open the doors. I'm waiting for the path to be clear so I can place my foot firmly on the ground. I wait for the day I stand, head held high, confident and self-assured.

  25. I am waiting for the doctor to say that the Leukaemia and all the side effects of my daughter's bone marrow transplant are completely healed.
    I am waiting for the inspiration or the knowledge of how to turn my blog about this journey I'm on, into a book that will bring hope to others who are waiting for miracles. Miracles of healing, belonging, purpose and strength.
    I'm waiting to go back to teaching Kindergarten, to life being normal, whatever normal means now.
    I'm thankful that I found you, your writing, your blog.
    I'm thankful that God finds us in the waiting room. In the stillness, in the quiet, even in the despair we find ourselves entangled in Him. He holds us close. And we are more than okay.
    We discover we have something not everyone has. How true, your words.
    Thankyou for writing with such vulnerability. Your words are breath and life.

  26. thank you for visiting my blog 'girl on a swing' And for your words of encouragement. You have no idea how much they were needed as a soft light in my afternoon this afternoon. Thanks you. I too am thankful that God finds us in the waiting. How ever hard and long the wait...

    Blessings to you and your daughter. That sounds like the kind of long hard wait that I cannot imagine. I pray God finds you and holds you in the waiting.