Sometimes I say things I’m not sure I believe. It’s not a game; I just need to hear the words out loud to be able to decide.
If I believe them or not, I mean.
These particular words, I said for the first time a couple of months ago. We were sitting at a familiar corner in my little town when they escaped from my mouth. Still, I didn’t blurt them; I announced them rather thoughtfully.
I’ve had time to think about them—to play with them in my brain and in my spirit—since then. I’ve decided I do believe them. So last weekend, as the Lovely Lady and I sat at the same corner waiting for the light to change, I spoke the words again.
I may have been a little more forceful this time.
“We’re next. I think I like being next as much as I actually enjoy going.”
She gave me that look. You know.
That look.
I’m certain it was the same look she had given me weeks ago when I said the same words. I suppose she expected—since I hadn’t reiterated it again since then—that I had thought better of the original statement and wasn’t going to repeat it again.
I haven’t.
And I did.
It’s a traffic light I’ve waited for many times. We often shop at the grocery store just past the corner. McDonald’s is on that same corner. When I’ve ridden my bicycle with friends on occasion, it’s a familiar point at which to cross the busy highway.
I’ve studied the progression of the different lanes and the timing of the lights. I know when each lane will begin to move and when they will stop (well, except for those few who invariably blow through the just-changed-red light at the last moment).
Others have done the same thing as I. One can tell by the brake lights that darken as the cars ahead anticipate the opportunity to move on in their journeys. It’s clear in the edging forward that begins as the stream of oncoming traffic begins to wane
When my cycling friends are with me, we’ve been known to start across the highway before the light changes, seeing that the crossing lanes have no oncoming traffic.
We’re next!
I don’t want to argue about my thoughtful statement. I’ve simply come to the conclusion personally that the anticipation, the certainty we’ll soon be moving again in the direction of our destination, is at least as exciting to me as the actual journey.
You see, actually moving entails effort. Sometimes, it even feels dangerous (those red light runners, you know) to enter the flow of traffic again. And, to tell the truth, frequently it’s just more comfortable to sit right where I am.
You’ve seen them, haven’t you? The efficient ones. Checking their lists while they wait. Putting on lipstick. Texting their moms.
Those are the ones I don’t understand. I sit drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, counting down the seconds until the light changes. Those folks, the efficiency experts, often become so enthralled in their idle-time activities that they forget they’re next. Horns will honk. Possibly. We are in the South, you know.
Still, we don’t always enjoy waiting.
Oh, we can adapt; we can fill the time with other diversions, but soon we are absorbed in those undertakings and forget that we’re waiting. Then again, we can sit idle—stressed and worried about what’s coming next.
But, being next means being ready.
Preparation is required for next.
As when driving, one must be set for what lies just ahead. Equipment must be in good condition. Our minds must be alert and primed for action. Eyes open. Reflexes tuned.
Can’t you just feel the adrenaline rush now? I can!
The red light in front of me notwithstanding, I’m ready to go.
Ready and waiting.
We’re next!
Be on guard. Stand firm in the faith. Be courageous. Be strong.
(1 Corinthians 16:13, NLT)
“A subject uppermost on my mind which I wanted most to emphasize…is our customer service philosophy here at Walmart, ‘You’re always next in line at Walmart.'”
(Sam Walton, founder of Walmart, Inc.)
But as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord,
I wait for God my Savior;
my God will hear me.
(Micah 7:7, NIV)
© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2022. All Rights Reserved.