So, About That Wait…

As early as I can remember, I struggled with waiting. Doctor’s offices were the bane of my existence, and if a line too long, I would turn around. I never liked it—because why did I have to wait? What was the purpose? I liked the idea of doing the things I wanted and needed to do when I wanted to do them.

As I got older, I began to despise waiting. I quickly realized that, in many spaces, a life of luxury often meant bypassing the inconvenience of waiting altogether.

But that mindset started to prove detrimental. I would find myself getting upset in moments where I had to wait, and sometimes I didn’t express it in the most graceful way. Entitlement was setting in.

But with growth, I learned to check that ugly emotion of impatience and the frustration it brought. I still don’t love the idea of waiting. And I think the longer you wait on some things, the more resentment, frustration, and doubt begin to creep in—at least, that’s true for me.

Since moving to LA, my life has felt like one big production of “hurry up and wait.” It’s made me question myself, my purpose, and God’s will for my life. And now, I’m in a place where I don’t even know what I’m waiting for. There were things I wanted to pursue when I first moved here, but somehow my path has steered me away from them.

I’ve heard people talk about “waiting well” in times like this, but I often wonder what that actually means. Does it mean I’m not frustrated in the wait? Does it mean I smile through it? Does it mean I pretend I’m not struggling? I don’t know.

What I do know is that there’s still an expectation—an ache—for something more. And I wrestle with the uncertainty of when or if I’ll ever see it realized.

Langston Hughes’ poem Harlem asks the question: “What happens to a dream deferred?” Then comes the haunting follow-up: “Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?”

As a student of literature, and a proud HBCU grad (shout-out to Tougaloo College and the Sipp), I’ve read that line more times than I can count. I even watched the play A Raisin in the Sun, titled after that very verse and written by Lorraine Hansberry.

The poem continues with other possibilities of what might happen to a dream delayed by time, circumstances, or life itself. But Hughes never gives us a clear answer. The ambiguity is intentional.

So what do you do when the next step is more waiting?

I wish I had it figured out. But one Bible verse I’ve been meditating on lately has helped me sit with the tension. Proverbs 13:12 says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.” (NIV)

For context, the book of Proverbs falls under the category of biblical poetry. And the more I reflect on that verse, the more I understand that the waiting is normal—and the feelings that come with it are normal, too.

Even though it’s frustrating, the wait builds endurance. Still, if you’re like me, hearing that—especially on the hard days—doesn’t do much to ease the ache in the moment.

Even today, I still struggle with waiting. I’m writing this in the middle of a long, uncertain waiting period—one that has reshaped my thoughts, desires, and all the things I once thought I wanted so desperately. I find myself confused, constantly questioning everything, because life no longer looks like it did before this season began. And yet… everything is still shifting. And somehow, it’s all for the good.

I am slowly growing into someone new, shedding old ways that no longer fit who I’m becoming.

I don’t know what your waiting season looks like—but I truly believe that when your “thing” is finally realized, you’ll understand why it took so long. And maybe waiting well means growing and becoming in the process.

So, if you’re reading this and you’re in a waiting season, I pray you are filled with renewed strength and unwavering faith. I pray that in the pruning, you are refined. That God continues to prepare your “next” and trusts you with weighty, meaningful things—and that you don’t grow weary in the wait.

I pray He surrounds you with love and support that uplifts and encourages you right where you are. And I pray you get to experience His goodness—not just in the life to come, but in this life, too.

In Jesus’s name,
Amen.

-@juss.shayla (IG)/ thebakinglawyer (Tiktok)