What always comes, but never arrives?

What always comes, but never arrives?

Have you figured it out? If you were at our church's children's program this evening you would know. I was stumped. Luckily, there are far greater minds around the table, and "tomorrow" was the answer quickly agreed upon.

Tomorrow always comes, but, it never does arrive. That is a pretty intense thought. So many times I find myself dwelling on what will be tomorrow. I can think the scenarios out, and pretty well decide on what I think tomorrow will look like. In fact, it is one of my favorite activities. The thoughts go something like this:
What will tomorrow look like if I eat this delicious Girl Scout Lemonade cookie? I think it will be a great tomorrow. I am only eating one, even though the package is open, and I could very well eat every single one of them. So, wise decision, tomorrow will look better if I just have one. If I were to eat the entire package, which is fully within my capacity, I will not have as good a tomorrow. I may be disgusted with myself. Primarily because, all the cookies would be gone. I know, you were thinking I would say; I feel so bad for ingesting so many calories. I never should have eaten all of them. But, no, really I just want more for tomorrow. Because, if I am lucky enough to have it come, I want to have a lemonade cookie somewhere in my day.

Or there's the thought that goes something like:
What will tomorrow look like if I don't pay this bill? I think tomorrow might not be such a good day. Not paying this bill will likely mean that I have additional money to spend on several boxes of Girl Scout Lemonade cookies. Though I love them, and want them to be available every tomorrow that comes my way, I don't really think I should skip paying my mortgage to make that a reality. I know, you probably thought I was going to say something like; Of course tomorrow wouldn't look good because banks don't really like to not get their money. In fact, even though they pretend like they don't know me, I will have about 20 new best friends who want to track me down and find me in an effort to converse about how important my money is to their life. Yeah, they may become stalkers, and that is a good reason to pay them on time. Stalkers can be a hassle. But, really, I am again concerned about my lemonade cookies. Though I want them for tomorrow, I don't want to forsake my tomorrow by investing heavily in my desire.

Now we are getting into the heavy thinking that goes on about my tomorrows:
What will tomorrow look like if I don't stop and listen? I think tomorrow will come and I will have missed out on enjoying the pleasure of eating my Girl Scout lemonade cookie. I know you can't really listen to a cookie. But, if I don't stop, I can't fully indulge in the joy of savoring the taste of my favorite cookie. I will have to go a little deeper here. In the moment that I am eating my cookie, I do listen. Sometimes I hear the swishing and crunching in my mouth. That echoey sound that happens when you chew and swallow food. I listen to that. Sometimes it's all I hear. In that moment, I savor the sweet, quiet treasure that is a Girl Scout Lemonade cookie.

Sometimes when I stop and listen, I am not enjoying a cookie. In those moments, other than wishing I had a cookie, I think about things like:
What will tomorrow look like if I disregard what I hear? What will tomorrow be like if when I see the smile on the chubby faces of the Butterfly class or the Ladybug class I turn away and talk to the teachers instead of looking into the heart of those precious children? Can I take the moment back? Will they know that I hear them and see them if I turn away? Surely there are times when turning away has to be done. Like, when a child is throwing a "fit", a "temper tantrum". Though I know those are the very moments that they most desire to be seen and heard (at least I know those are the moments that I most wish to be seen and heard), if we indulge them, they may believe that is how to get our attention. Then instead of smiles, I would be welcomed with cries and grumpiness.

I do love those moments too. When a child is so upset that they are out of control or awareness of their own space and time, those are the moments that I long for. Not out of some masochistic desire to have pain inflicted on myself or others. But, because those moments will come along until the moment we are no longer walking through this space and time. Wouldn't you agree? We spend our today's fretting, stressing, and maneuvering through what our tomorrows will be. How we can manage our past so that we can pursue our future. That is how we spend our todays. Managing the past so we can have our tomorrow. Then, when the expectation falls short, is unrealized or destroyed, we are left with a temper tantrum moment. That moment when we can't understand how we arrived at our today when we planned so concertedly for our tomorrow.

Sometimes we play that temper tantrum in our own heads and bodies. Sometimes we perpetrate the tantrum against those closest to us. Then there are the innocent bystanders who are trying to sell us Girl Scout thin mints who don't have any of our Lemonade cookies because they don't sell as well, so they didn't bring them to the booth set out in front of the Lowe's exit. Thank God they were at the exit and not the entrance, because then there would have been customer service representatives at the paint department who would have been additional innocent bystanders to the tantrum. Why do I like those moments with kids?

I love taking that little person in my arms and saying, "I know, it's not fair. It's just not fair. You shouldn't have to hurt like this. I know you are frustrated and you want it your way. I know that feeling and it is hard. It's ok to be angry and frustrated." They don't know how to say they're frustrated or angry. But, maybe one day when they are 37, and they don't get the cookies they want at the Girl Scout booth, they will know it is ok. They will have walked through many moments of disappointment and frustration. And, maybe, if taught early, they will allow themselves to be disappointed and to hurt without shutting themselves off and turning into a volcano. Wouldn't it be easier for all of us if we recognized, "It's ok. It's ok to be sad and frustrated. I am hurting and I don't like the way my tomorrow hasn't arrived. My tomorrow has come, and I am now in today, but it isn't what I planned or what I thought it would be." I know I need to realize that.

God doesn't want me to manage my past and maneuver into my tomorrow. He wants me to have a full life in the today. I too often find myself holding back who I am so that maybe tomorrow I can be who I want to be. But, tomorrow comes, and yet it doesn't arrive. I am left waiting and hoping for the tomorrow that will never be. This isn't to suggest living a life in the moment without consideration of the past or the future. Lord knows I spend a great deal of time on both of those topics. But, knowing that I have today, and tomorrow will never be today, I want to be who I am. I want to love and care. I want to feel and share. I want to risk loving in a way that sets me up to be hurt. There are times when I know I have to respect and honor the "todays" of those around me, and how I may or may not fit into that picture. But, if I don't risk stopping, hearing, and responding to the "todays", what will my tomorrow look like? Will it feel safe and complete? Will it feel broken and painful?

I guess I will wait and see what comes tomorrow.