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I’ve never met anybody who loved waiting rooms. Think about it—nobody schedules a doctor’s appointment to read the AARP magazines in the waiting room. You don’t call Cox Cable to listen to the music they pipe through the phone while you’re on hold, and you don’t go to a restaurant for the fun of holding a buzzer in your hand. Embracing the concept of “waiting” defies our sense of logic. Waiting is what we put up with to reach the goal. We endure it. Deal with it. Grumble our way through it. But we certainly don’t embrace it. In many ways, “waiting” is the enemy. It is the hairline crack in our perfect plans that terrifies us, secretly makes us question if we’re deficient…if God’s deficient.
I use to view “waiting” as something akin to being a bench warmer. You’re watching the game, all the while…
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