ayoamadu

I knew of a man who thought waiting was weakness, as if delay meant denial, as if still waters meant God was absent.
He wanted the promise, but resisted the pruning.
Desired the crown, but questioned the cross.

I knew of a man who learned that waiting has a reward, that those who endure are the ones who rise renewed.
He watched a woman with child, hope stretching her frame, promise hidden beneath patience.
She did not summon the birth early, because every life has an appointed time and every purpose must first be formed in secret.

I knew of a man who stood beside a farmer, seed buried where no applause reaches.
The farmer did not harvest at first sight of green, for he knew there is a time to plant and a time to reap.
Premature hands ruin what faithful soil perfects.
Then understanding found him; God makes all things beautiful in their time.
What looks slow to man is often precise to heaven.
Waiting, he learned, is not inactivity; it is strength restrained, faith anchored,
hope refusing to faint.

I knew of a man who finally believed that those who wait on the Lord are not forgotten, they are being prepared.
For what is rushed may survive, but what is waited for will stand, endure, and glorify the One who ordained its time.