Waiting and Wanting

Over the last few weeks, I’ve found myself spending a lot of time in my car, running errands, squeezing in Christmas shopping, and tying up loose ends that always seem to pop up at the end of the year. I mean, doesn’t everyone forget that property taxes are due in December?

Somewhere between one stoplight and the next, I started noticing that people approach waiting in different ways.

First, we have the person who is revving their engine, honking their horn, banging their hand on the steering wheel, and inching forward before the light has even changed. They have no interest in waiting. To them, a red light is an inconvenience. They have places to go.

Then there's the person enjoying the view, lost in thought, maybe scrolling or staring off into the distance. The light turns green, but they don’t budge. Everyone else remains stuck in traffic because this person never noticed it was time to go.

And finally, we have the third person.

They wait at the red light. They pay attention. They are present. And when the light turns green—and it’s safe—they go.

These are three different ways of being at the same intersection.

As a new year approaches, I have a hunch these same patterns will show up in our lives.

This time of year carries a lot of pressure. Pressure to go. Pressure to move into the new year with a new identity. New plans. New goals. A new version of yourself. We’ve all heard it said, “New year, new you!” Honestly? Urgh.

What if this transition into another year is inviting us into a season of both waiting and wanting?

We often think of waiting as being passive, just sitting there, doing nothing. But real waiting is active. It requires presence, attention, and discernment. Waiting is a decision to listen to your life, to your body, to the quiet inner voice that often gets drowned out by urgency and noise.

And wanting isn’t the same as going. Wanting is knowing what we desire, but intentionally holding it. It’s noticing what stirs in you without forcing it into action too soon. Wanting asks us to prepare the way—to make space, to clear what no longer fits, to get honest about what we actually desire instead of what we think we should want.

Some of us struggle because we rush through the red lights of our lives. We go because our culture tells us it’s time, because everyone else seems to be moving, and standing still feels like falling behind. We push forward even when something inside us is whispering, “not yet”—and later wonder why we feel disconnected, exhausted, or strangely unsatisfied.

And others of us never go at all. We’re waiting for an external green light—permission, affirmation, certainty, or the elusive feeling of readiness. We keep one foot on the brake because we’re listening everywhere except within. The light changes, but we don’t trust it or trust ourselves.

But there is another way.

We can choose to wait fully when the light is red and to want with intention while we wait. And to go when the signal comes—not from external pressure, but from internal alignment.

This season doesn’t require you to speed through an intersection or sit frozen at it. It asks you to pay attention.

As one year closes and another approaches, maybe the invitation isn’t to reinvent yourself overnight. Maybe it’s to notice where you’re being asked to wait—and where you’re being invited to want something different.

Because waiting doesn’t mean you don’t want. And wanting doesn’t mean it’s time to go.

Sometimes the bravest, healthiest thing you can do is sit at the light—fully present, fully aware, and fully prepared to move when it’s time.

And when the light of your life turns green, you’ll look both ways—and then, and only then, you’ll go.

Here’s to more waiting and wanting in 2026.

If you want to be more intentional about your plans for 2026, please consider joining us at The Reset Retreat in June!