Waiting for the Line to Dry

I think about this picture a lot lately.  It's one of my favorite images from this summer.  It reminds me of a patience that I am learning in this season, a discipline that is something like the willingness to sip a drink on the patio and wait for the towels to dry.

Except the things I am most often waiting for these days are words.  Words that aren't ready to be spoken or written yet, ideas that are still blowing in the wind and soaking in the sun.  But my, what a pretty line of them there is.

Impatience and urgency used to be my M.O.  Who has time to wait? I would think.  Throw the damn things in the dryer and crank it up already.  People are waiting.

But there's nothing like laundry that is fresh off the line.  There's nothing like sitting and letting the breeze and sun work their magic on you while you wait.  And there's nothing like words that are born in their own time, in fullness instead of in haste.

I understand the quietness can be hard to take, but it's not the quietness of absence--not at all.  It's the quietness of deep and abiding presence.  See if you can feel it--the invitation to sit and take a load off.  To sip something that quenches your thirst and keep easy company together.  We can admire the beauty of the clothes line and wait for our words and our hearts to warm themselves in the light.