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fridgidAs a homeschool mom of five kids (ages 2,4,6,8,10) my coffee intake is pretty important to me. More specifically, my Starbucks coffee intake is pretty important to me. In fact, I’m almost certain that there is a direct correlation between white mochas and being a better home educator. With the convenience of homeschooling, let’s just say that I’ve been known to take spelling class on the road while we drive-through my local Starbucks. “Hey kids, spell ‘macchiato!’” Trust me, I’m a much better teacher with a mocha in hand (pretty sure my students would all agree too. Sometimes, I’ve even had them suggest that perhaps I need to go get a coffee because, “you seem a little grumpy this morning, mom.”)

Most days though, my time is more important than a 20 minute wait for coffee and I will rarely sit in the drive through line behind 13 cars with my 5 children strapped in the backseat. Correction, in 6 years of homeschooling, I have never sat in a drive through line with more than 6 cars in it, let alone 13.

Until Wednesday.

Two days ago, the winter air was frigid, I was really dragging, and the kids had 30 spelling words each plus a new poem to memorize. As I pulled up to the 13 car bumper-to-bumper line, the wait time didn’t even faze me.

It was simply worth it to me.

I spouted off spelling words and i-n-c-h-e-d forward. Completely uncharacteristic of me though, I wasn’t even slightly worried about my time, I wasn’t in a panic thinking about what I should make for dinner and if I had laid out meat to thaw, I wasn’t even thinking about what others thought of me for toting my kids around when it was freezing outside just to satisfy my coffee craving. As I waited, contentedly blissful in the knowledge that steaming sweet liquid was about to enter my chilled body, the irony of the moment hit me dead on.

I was happily waiting. IMG_0863

I wasn’t using my time to think of 100 ways to worry about something I couldn’t change, nor was I using my time to worry about whether or not my coffee would be correctly prepared and if I would be satisfied with the results.

In light of eternity, coffee really doesn’t matter (sad, but true). What actually does matter though, is my attitude while I wait for God. I was content to wait for my coffee. I trusted the barista who had made my coffee a hundred times. I wasn’t concerned with the outcome or even how long it took before I could take my first sip of deliciousness. I was just happy to be in line…waiting.

So much of the Christian life is spent waiting on God, trusting that He has a plan (that He isn’t frantically looking for an alternative solution), and resting in the knowledge that He Is Good. How much better the “wait” would be if we were patient? What if I sat in God’s “coffee line”, waiting happily, knowing and trusting that He is my perfect heavenly Father and He has good plans to bring about His glory and my good – despite how I think the outcome should look.

Let’s face it, if I can trust the barista who knows my name and my face (but nothing else), surely I can happily wait on the loving Father who crafted me and knows my deepest intimacies.

He is worth the wait!