Orlando is a city that is in constant disrepair.

I say this with great kindness because I’m sure our city planners never intended the consistent traffic issues, year-round road construction and surprise detours that have nothing to do with streamers or balloons.

Kindness is not part of their job description.

I was trying to turn left onto a heavily travelled road at 5:45 in the evening. Not a great idea on good days. But when complicated by road construction, folks weren’t predisposed to let me in, having waited a brief eternity to move ahead a few car lengths.

Lacking patience to wait any longer, I deduced it would be quicker to turn right and drive through a neighboring planned community to return to my own.

Bad deducing.

As I pulled into Avalon, the first thing that struck me as odd was the inordinate amount of traffic. Not typical for a Thursday evening.

The second thing that grabbed my ever-alert mind was the number of people on the sidewalks, sitting, as if anticipating something happening.

And it wasn’t my arrival for which they waited.images-3

I pulled down a side street, hoping to circumvent whatever was going on. Only to come to a stop behind a blue truck who wasn’t going anywhere. In front of him a convertible was passing slowly down the street.

A gal in a crown was seated on top the back seat.

Our local homecoming parade was just starting.

Jolly.

I haven’t thought about homecoming since my youngest graduated high school over three years ago. It was a rite of passage that I passaged right out of.

The poor gentleman in front of me was clueless as to what was happening. Words can’t describe his reaction.

Yes they can. Despondency. Woe. Frustration. Those are all really good words.

As the man slumped back to his car, my sweet husband called, wondering what I was doing.

He thought the whole thing quite comical. So since he thought it enjoyable, I made him stay on the phone with me for close to an hour as I gave a blow by blow color commentary of what went by.

images-2My quick 10-minute ride home took almost an hour and a half.

I don’t wait well. For much of anything. Or anyone.

So often I try to make my way work. Faster. Easier. I don’t want inconvenience or pain. Awkwardness or delays.

But God knows my story, my path. He knows what I need. He’s not bothered by the wants that burden me.

“So the Lord must wait for you to come to Him so He can show you His love and compassion. For the Lord is a faithful God. Blessed are those who wait for His help.”   Isaiah 30:18

Waiting isn’t a sentence. It’s an opportunity for growth. To receive generously offered love.

I guess I need to learn to enjoy the parade.

First picture courtesy of capecentralhigh.com.

Second picture courtesy of pacific.edu.

3 responses »

  1. JulieS says:

    Wow… are you sure “waiting isn’t a sentence”? Because I’ve seen my share of it the past 2 years and it’s not getting any easier!

    What assurance, my friend, “God knows my story, my path. He knows what i need. He’s not bothered by the wants that burden me.”

    Oh friend. You speak words of truth that minister to my heart.

  2. terry morgan says:

    I always loved parades as a child! … maybe because they usually threw candy! 🙂 Maybe if I kept candy in my car, I would have more patience waiting… what do you think? Thanks for the sweet reminder!

    • daylerogers says:

      You should have seen the bags of candy being hurled to the crowd! That’s what took so long–they needed to divest themselves of all the sugar, and the kids running into the street to get candy slowed the process. So sweet–and slow!

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