Remember when we were little? After we built the fort, there would always be a lookout. It might be a place, possibly camouflaged or from above or peeking out somewhere no one would suspect. The lookout might also be a designated member of the group who hid and watched for what approached.
But what did we expect to approach? Usually it was our parents' unwanted commands. "It's time to go home!" "It's time to come inside!" (And then we would hide for as long as we could.) Sometimes the lookouts were for approaching enemies. But except for an occasional older sibling who threatened to wreck the fort, none really came. No. The real purpose of the lookout was the suspense.
I loved that feeling.
I think we adults forget that feeling, that anticipation. That's why I'm realizing that lookouts are still important....
For the past several months I have been literally counting the days. And then yesterday, I heard a whisper, "Just stop." I've wasted so much time trying to get life back the way it was. But the life I want back doesn't exist anymore.
This is my life. Right now.
I have to stop wasting my time counting. Instead, I have to build a lookout, one that looks ahead instead of back, one that is excited about what could be next whatever that might be, one that believes in promise again, one with more wonder than worry.