Waiting patiently is not one of my gifts in life. I don’t wait well. I want instant results, immediate feedback, or swift outcomes. I often journal that I don’t have discipline. That is partially true, but during the course of projects this year, I am trying to have a new outlook on that. I realized I have had the discipline to write my Artist Way Morning Pages each day (The program ended this past week on Day 90 of almost daily writing. I chose to skip Christmas, Easter, and a couple of other days, but I am choosing to continue writing them after the program). I walked through the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises, not perfectly, with a spiritual director from August of 2024 and am preparing to conclude them this month, in June 2025. I doubted that I would finish them! I listened to a Lent program on Hallow for the 40 days and Triduum, stopped at Easter and now am on day 50 of another series. The writing each morning, or the journaling about each reflection on the app, became my consequence of the daily action. Seeing the written word was the reward.

But if there isn’t a happy conclusion to the daily endeavor, I succumb to life as it was before the new behavior was added. I give up on diets and exercise programs. I buy something that I said I was going to wait to get (although I am patiently waiting to buy a Nespresso machine later this summer!). I react and get distressed if something doesn’t go the way I was hoping it would. If I caught myself each time I said “why bother?” this week, and rewrote the declaration in my head, I likely would have had a better week! Waiting is just hard!

This week on the Feast of the Ascension, the “real one” on Thursday, I read and shared a post on social media by Jan Richardson (from her book, The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief). I have been clinging to these words ever since:

You cannot know it now,

cannot even imagine

what lies ahead,

but I tell you

the day is coming

when breath will

fill your lungs

as it never has before

and with your own ears

you will hear words

coming to you new

and startling.

You will dream dreams

and you will see the world

ablaze with blessings.

Wait for it.

Still yourself.

Stay.

To me they express hope, not just in times of grief, but in life. Hope for all those times I am not seeing the results I want. When I am not getting the answer, or seeing the possible outcome, a desired mile marker on the journey. Those moments that feel like driving through flat Iowa!

I would like to think that I would be one of the disciples waiting patiently after the Ascension of Jesus until the coming of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost. I have successfully prayed hundreds of novenas in my life. The novena prayer traditionally comes from the nine days that the apostles, Mary and other disciples waited for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. (That’s why I prefer to honor the Ascension on Thursday versus the Sunday following.) I think with the support of others and the reminders of the promises from the Christ, I would join in prayer and belief in the assurance of the Spirit. At least I hope I would.

So, for all those journeys that haven’t reached the desired destination yet, I pray with you and for you, in hope, that we can wait for the promise of that aspiration. Let us believe that if the desire was planted in our hearts, then we have the means to see it to fulfillment. We need to tune out the other voices and distractions that tell us we should do something else or that we can’t be that which we desire. The Ignatian Spiritual Exercises have taught me that God speaks to us, calls each of us individually, experienced in the holy desires within our hearts. We have to learn to listen to them, respond in faith, and wait in hope.

Wishing you abundant peace and hope this week, Deena

Photo: The Holy Spirit window, as seen through the Baldachin, or canopy, over the altar, both designed by Bernini, in St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, taken during my 2023 pilgrimage.