Still Waiting

“Ooh! Weet!” Ben exclaimed when he saw the bouquet our church dropped off the other day. Even though services and activities have resumed, some of us are still quarantined due to health risks. Ben is one of those and, by extension, me – although he can’t comprehend why.

Ben has been at home, almost totally isolated, since early March. The first five months he was depressed and frustrated, but gradually he adjusted to the limitations and now cheerfully takes them in stride.

I, however, am weary. In the beginning, there was a learning curve and a lot of other people in the same situation. It was motivating to keep our spirits up together, to encourage an outward focus, and to keep an upward perspective. But now most people around us have moved on, albeit with limitations, to enjoy the warmth of human contact, while Ben and I still linger in isolation, waiting for a freedom that keeps stretching farther into the distance.

I look at Ben, eyes shining with delight over the flowers, and I remember how last week he raced down the front steps to leap into the arms of a co-worker after months of separation. Just yesterday he brought in the groceries, celebrating over each box of granola bars and jar of applesauce. I see him find joy in life’s gifts even in his loneliness – this one who needs to give and receive hugs like the rest of us need air.

I watch him, and I am humbled. It is a wonderful world, after all. For all the losses and isolation, there are still joys to be found and gifts to marvel over. There are still innumerable things to be grateful for. 

The sun still gently rises, painting the icy lake with the soft light of morning. Ben snuggles close, naming the colors as they seep over the horizon. The ancient text in my lap still humbles and encourages me. It is God who appoints times and seasons and who sustains his creation; who sings over his children, holding out hope in an ever-darkening world.

It is God who provides, but it is I who must choose to receive and appreciate the provision. It is God who thunders, but it is I who must choose to remove my shoes in wonder. It is God whose eyes roam to and fro throughout the earth, seeking to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him. Those eyes seek me and find me, here on the couch with Ben. I am seen. It is enough.

5 thoughts on “Still Waiting

  1. Pingback: A La Carte (February 17) |

  2. Your story gives me so much encouragement. My 28 yr old son has Down syndrome too. He even looks a little like Ben. I laughed so hard at Ben and his joy over the groceries because my Daniel is exactly the same! He loves to take each thing out of the bags, exclaiming “thank you so much, mom! I love this!” Or he looks at the sunset and says “it’s a beauuuutiful evening, isn’t it, mom?” when all I see is freezing rain and the work it’ll take to clear the car. God gave us precious gifts, didn’t he?

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Andrea, I always enjoy your blogs. You write so beautifully and from your heart. I don’t always comment but always read. Thank you for sharing your life with others. I too have felt confined during this time, but just started different projects and found the time goes by quickly that way for me.

    We are starting to open up a little more here in Colorado, and it is nice to be near my family even if I don’t see them too often. They are here for me if I need assistance. Thanks. Dorothy Silliman


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s