When Waiting Takes Years

Waiting doesn’t always look like doing nothing.

Sometimes it looks like your whole life is quietly on hold.

This morning, I’m sitting with my coffee, enjoying the dark of the early morning and the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights. The house is still. Kind.

And I find myself feeling grateful, not because life turned out the way I once hoped it would, but because I’ve learned how to keep living the life I actually have.

That hasn’t always come easily.

For a long time, waiting felt faithful. It felt responsible. Even loving. I believed that if I waited long enough, prayed hard enough, stayed hopeful enough, something would eventually change.

But what happens when the waiting takes years, and the years don’t bring the change you hoped for or prayed for?

That question sits quietly in many women.

You might recognize yourself in that more than you expected.

Waiting has a way of becoming a way of life.

Waiting for a wayward child to find their footing.

Waiting for a broken friendship to heal.

Waiting for a marriage to feel more connected.

Waiting for the job, the dream, or the life you thought would come by now.

Sometimes the waiting isn’t dramatic. It’s subtle. You keep functioning. You keep showing up. You keep being the strong one. And without realizing it, parts of you get put on pause.

Days pass. Children grow. Grandchildren arrive. Life keeps moving.

And then, often in a quiet moment like this one, something shifts.

What remains is you.

I know - that realization can take a moment to settle.

This isn’t about blaming anyone.

It’s about noticing where your own life has been quietly waiting.

Here’s the truth that stopped me in my tracks when I finally let it sink in:

Your life begins to change the moment you stop waiting and step into the life you already have.

Not the life you hoped would happen someday.

Not the life you’ve been holding your breath for.

The one that’s already here.

Living doesn’t require dramatic decisions or sudden courage. Sometimes it begins much more gently than that - by allowing yourself to be present again. By choosing not to postpone joy. By letting yourself take part in your own life, even if it isn’t what you once imagined.

And something else happens when a woman does this. Her children see it. Her grandchildren feel it. Strength, steadiness, and self-respect get passed down quietly, like an inheritance.

When you stop waiting and start living, you don’t just change your life - you change what gets passed on.

Today, I’m learning to treat each day as the gift it is. Not because everything is resolved, but because life is still happening. And I don’t want to miss it.

There is beauty here.

There is life here.

And you are allowed to live it.

As Christmas draws near, may you give yourself permission to receive the quiet beauty of this season – not as something to perform, but as something to rest inside.

“I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.”

Psalm 27:13( NIV)

Still Her, The Journey Home