I do not wait well. I get impatient in traffic and often try to find a less crowded route. While waiting in line at the post office, I configure new systems for better efficiency in my head. Yet, over and over again, I find myself in a season of waiting. I finally became a bride at the age of thirty-four, which frankly is considered an ancient marrying age for someone born and raised in the south. I joke with my husband that he did a good job of hiding from me for a decade. Now that I have this handsome partner in life, I can remember those single years with rose-colored…
