Waiting For My Kids

“ESTRAGON : He should be here.
VLADIMIR: He didn’t say for sure he’d come.
ESTRAGON: And if he doesn’t come?
VLADIMIR: We’ll come back tomorrow.
ESTRAGON: And then the day after tomorrow.
VLADIMIR: The point is—
ESTRAGON: Until he comes.
VLADIMIR: You’re merciless.” – ‘Waiting For Godot’, Act 1, Scene 1

I recently read through the confusing, compelling play ‘Waiting For Godot’. It is essentially a play about two men waiting for someone named Godot whom they have never seen or met, but as they have no other purpose, they just keep waiting no matter what strange things befall them. It is a wild goose chase, but a static, unmoving one, and I was struck by how much it reminded me of my own life sometimes.

We may be getting another kid. We certainly don’t need another kid, because since ML left H is doing really well being the only teen in the house. I feel drawn to this other girl all the same, and I am tied to waiting for her.

In the play, the question keeps coming up of WHY the main characters don’t just leave. Why do they put up with hardships and nonsense and uncertainty when they have all the freedom in the world to simply walk away? Are they stupid or noble for their endless waiting, or is it something in between?

Why don’t R and I quit this admittedly soul-crushing line of work, say no more kids, and settle down to raise a nice, normal family?

Maybe it comes down to faith that God has a good plan for us, but I’m not really sure that I have that much faith. I wish I did, and that I could claim that kind of spiritual strength, but I don’t think I can. I think that what it comes down to is that R and I are addicted to these kids. We are addicted to the hard parts, the good parts, the strange parts, and the silly parts. We are addicted to the rush, and the waiting, the joy and the heartbreak.

Really though, there are worse things to be addicted to. These kids are so worth the wait.



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