What Are We Waiting For
Without a doubt every single one of us experiences periods of waiting. Waiting for the next door to open, waiting for our debt to be clear, waiting for children to be older, and the list goes one. What happens when these seasons of waiting cause strain on our mental health, and maybe even strain with our relationship with God. These are the seasons where you wonder if that next step is even meant for you. You consider that you might not even deserve that next step. Or that maybe you're just meant to be stuck right where you are.
Starting seeds in that tiny apartment was a literal act of hope for that door to be open for us.
Starting thousands of seeds in that 2 bedroom apartment anywhere I could. including a stand-up shower we never used because our babies all took baths.
I have experienced seasons of waiting in many obvious ways. Waiting to be out of debt, waiting to find the right plot of land, waiting for the house to be built on that land. I remember when we signed our apartment lease, it was only supposed to be three months, and it ended up being three years. I had two more children in that apartment. During that time, our pastor shared a message that helped us finally understand and accept what he called “the hallway.” He described it as that in-between place in life where one door has clearly closed behind you, yet the next door hasn’t opened no matter how long you stand there waiting. You start to wonder if you misheard God or ended up in the wrong place entirely. That picture resonated deeply with us because that apartment was our hallway. We were paying down debt, growing our family, and praying constantly, yet longing for the door that would lead to our farm and homesteading dreams. It was a true waiting season full of hope, but also frustration.
But what about the deeper and longer seasons of waiting the ones we don’t immediately recognize as hallways because we’ve been standing in them for so long? I recently realized that even though we’ve been out of that first hallway for years, I’ve quietly been walking through another one all this time. That hallway is motherhood specifically, motherhood in the little years. Let me be clear: I love being a mom, especially a stay-at-home mom. I chose this life with full intention, and I am grateful every day for my four precious babies. But I hadn’t seen that this season is a hallway too. The door to my past self has fully closed behind me, and while I cherish the woman I’ve become the mother I am now, I’m still walking between who I was and who I’m becoming, waiting for God to show me what the next door will look like. Sometimes, I find myself walking along and I see a door that invites me to try certain things: with my business, a new hobby, or a career opportunity and I eagerly run towards it only to smack right into an impassable door, almost mocking me for trying to open it. I've come to find many things I simply cannot do as a mother of four very young children.
I have also come to understand that I am in the season of motherhood that I have long since prayed to be in, and it is not my turn to pursue more complex aspects of my business and goals, I can’t accept every event and opportunity. I’ve seen this saying circling social media, “I realized I was replaceable in every area of my life, except here (at home)”. I am the only mom these babies are ever going to get. I am the only mother to my husband’s children he will get. This is also my only shot at young motherhood I will ever get. This is the season I prayed for, this is the garden God planted me. With that, I would be lying if I didn't admit that I am human and get frustrated, jealous, and compare myself constantly to other women who seem “to have it all.”
Throughout Scripture, God repeatedly shows that the unseen seasons are often the most important ones. Joseph spent years in prison before stepping into leadership, learning humility and dependence on God behind closed doors. David was anointed king as a young shepherd, yet waited decades tending sheep, fleeing danger, learning to trust God in the wilderness before he ever wore the crown. Even Abraham waited decades for the promised son, a slow refining of faith that taught him to believe God’s word over his circumstances. These stories echo the truth of Psalm 27:14: “Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart.”
Just like a garden, our lives are shaped by the soil we’re planted in right now—not the soil we wish we had or the place we hope to grow next. A plant cannot thrive by longing for a different corner of the garden; it grows because it receives care, nourishment, and attention in its present ground. Scripture echoes this truth in Jeremiah 29:5–7, where God tells His people to build homes, plant gardens, and seek the welfare of the place where they are, even though it wasn’t their final destination. It was a call to be faithful in the “now,” not just the “not yet.” In our own lives, this looks like showing up with love and presence in the little years of motherhood, even when the days feel repetitive. It looks like working diligently in a job to pay off debt, trusting that this season is building skills, character, and resilience. It looks like embracing the quiet seasons where God is preparing you, even when there’s no spotlight and no applause. When we tend our current soil with faithfulness, God grows something in us that will withstand where He leads next.
Don’t forget in 1 Kings 17:1–7, before Elijah ever stood on Mount Carmel or called down fire from heaven, he experienced a long, quiet season of waiting at the brook Cherith. After delivering a bold message to King Ahab, God led Elijah into hiding, away from people. There, in solitude, Elijah drank from the brook and was fed daily by ravens. To an outsider, it may have looked like Elijah had been sidelined or forgotten, but it was God’s intentional preparation for what was ahead. In the same way, our own seasons of stillness or hiddenness are not detours, they are often the very places where God shapes our faith, strengthens our character, and prepares us for the work He’s already planned for us.
There is so much more to this other than just “blooming where you are planted”, sometimes you have to wait to even be planted in the first place. If you have ever looked at the back of a seed packet, you might notice that some seeds require some extra steps before they can even be placed under soil. One of those steps takes months to complete. Cold Stratification is a process of placing a seed in a cold, dark, moist environment for sometimes up to 90 days. The seed needs to experience an entire season of waiting in a cold, dark, slightly moist “hallway”, before it can even be given a chance to grow. It hasn't even had an opportunity to prove itself before being placed in these conditions. But here's the thing, God designed these particular plants to go through this, in order for them to not only grow but thrive through germination and eventually their many years of adult life. This is designed waiting, because the cold softens the shell of the seed, and wakes the inside up. In the same way, our own seasons of waiting often feel: quiet, uncomfortable, and slow. Yet God uses this period to break down what needs to soften in us, awaken what needs to grow, and prepare us for the fruit we cannot yet see.
Five plants that require cold stratification:
Lavender
Milkweed
Lupine
Echinacea (coneflower)
Delphinium
Simple cold stratification method (plastic bag + paper towel + fridge):
Lightly dampen a paper towel (not soaking wet).
Place the seeds evenly on half of the towel and fold it over them.
Slide the folded towel into a labeled plastic bag, leaving it slightly open for airflow.
Place the bag in the refrigerator (not the freezer) for 4–6 weeks, depending on the seed type.
After the cold period, plant seeds immediately in soil and begin normal germination conditions.
I want you to know that you are not alone. So many of us are experiencing these seasons of waiting and lack the understanding of what God is trying to work in our lives. God knows our hearts, He knows what’s in store for us, and He has great plans for you. But listen, being in this season is also part of His plan. There is worship here, there is ministry. We need to stop looking back at the women we were, and then only turn to focus on the women we could be. Who are we right now? How are we going to tend the gardens God has blessed us in, right now? I was given these specific children. I was given this motherhood at this specific time. This isn't just “waiting”, this is my current assignment. This is my ministry right now, to nurture these children, and it's my mission to bring them to God. These children are also destined for God’s plans and part of that plan is me being their mother. What is in store for my children while I am in this “hallway”, and what fruit will grow for them because of it?
Who knows what will come out of this season of “waiting”. All I know is that I am planted here, this is my garden to tend, this is my season to nurture. The fruit will come, and even if there’s nothing for me, it’s all for Him.
I invite you to consider what your “hallway” looks like? Is it a prison, or is it a purpose? Pray constantly, and take heart. There is always something to grow, after even the longest of winters.
Grow & Garden,
Jessica
w/ Shari’s
