She said it just like that, too. Like it was from a book she'd read that morning.
This month I found myself on a trip in a purple Jeep sitting next to a woman who'd be over 80 if you were counting the years to her name, but under 30 if you weren't counting at all.
To hear her, you'd think she was a 20-something about to embark on a life that could only be described as "wild", "free", and "for goodness sake, fun".
She refers to herself as a gypsy and a vagabond who's grown-up children can't understand why she won't just hunker down in Illinois and be an every-day grandmother already.
"They don't understand me," she said. "They never have...and I'm moving to Scotland, you know."
She has these plans. Lots of them.
Palo Alto, California was where she began her one long adventure. An ESL teacher to elementary school students, she later joined the Peace Corps and moved to Hungary. She spoke of an elderly woman she'd met there who didn't speak a word of English, but would wave to her from her window with a smile every morning as she walked down a back street to work.
She went on to talk about her time in Wales with her mother's family, and an Easter Sunday she spent with a Greek Orthodox family in Santorini, Greece. She laughed thinking back to a gentleman at an old pub in Ireland like she'd been there yesterday.
And Jerusalem, it was a favorite of hers.
"The man at the desk at the hotel wasn't sure if I'd like the room they had for me because it was so small," she said, "but when I looked out the window, I had a view of the temple, so I said it would do just fine."
Her eyes lit up when she said that, and so did mine.
As we continued to drive, she continued to tell about her travels and those people she'd met along the way, and I marveled that she'd done it all in less than a single lifetime.
We stopped at a gas station for a break and she took the hand of the lady behind the counter and asked how her day was going. "I didn't want her to think we'd just come for the restrooms..." she said.
It was something.
And it made me wonder what exactly it is I'm waiting for.
Here was a woman who is unmarried and 4 times my age....and if there's anything you can be sure of, it's that she is moving to Scotland. She told me so 3 times. I believe her.
And you know what? She doesn't wait for anything. When she wants to go somewhere, she goes. And if she's not going anywhere, she's not waiting around for anybody or anything. She's holding the hand of the woman behind the gas station counter, or chatting with strangers at the Starbucks where my brother works, or making sure she meets her quota of 8 hugs a day because it's good for you and that's her only reason.
This September had a theme running straight through it.
It's funny and interesting and honestly, a little scary when God want's you to hear something.
Because he makes sure you hear it loud, clear, and almost all the time.
This month I heard it from a pastor, heard it from a friend, read it in a magazine article, and saw it in an 80-something vagabond moving to Scotland...
I don't have to wait.
Yes, there are things I'm waiting on.
But I have a choice to move in the waiting, I don't have to wait until they happen to move.
God is not waiting.
He is moving.
He is working a plan and lifting our heads upward.
He is moving us Homeward........and that is far from waiting.
Although she probably won't ever read this, I am so thankful for this story-telling gypsy grandmother who reminded me to stop waiting and keep moving. Because that's how we get Home.
"Today there's sunshine and company, so I am blessed"
--Jeanne
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