The Sweetest Part Might Be the Waiting
An ode to anticipation—and the woman who dares to dream again
Joy doesn’t wait until everything is perfect.
It arrives early—
with wings wide,
light rising,
and a whisper in your spirit that says:
“Something good is coming. Get ready.”
This is Joy.
The kind that meets you before the fireworks start.
The kind that lives in the anticipation itself.
Last night, I sat outside on the patio as the sun dropped low and downtown Lynchburg began to buzz with life. One by one, cars pulled in, families unloaded coolers, couples held hands, and kids skipped toward the riverfront to claim a spot for the fireworks. The celebration wouldn’t start for hours. But no one cared. They were already smiling.
It struck me: they weren’t here for the fireworks. They were here for the anticipation of fireworks.
The moment before the moment.
And I couldn’t stop thinking—when’s the last time you gave yourself something to anticipate?
Anticipation is a Sacred Spark
We don’t talk enough about the sacred art of looking forward. The way it keeps your heart open. The way it coaxes your spirit to rise a little higher.
Anticipation isn’t passive. It’s not some flimsy substitute for action. It’s an emotional rehearsal for joy. It’s what your soul does to get ready. And if you let it, it can become a life-giving practice all on its own.
You don’t have to have the thing yet. But when you let yourself feel it coming?
That’s when the lights start twinkling inside you again.
We Were Taught to Anticipate for Others—Not Ourselves
If you’ve spent most of your life cooking the meal, planning the birthday party, organizing the holidays, or cheering from the sidelines, I already know something about you:
You know how to build anticipation.You just forgot how to build it for yourself.
Women over 60 have been taught to show up with the balloons, the casserole, the camera—but not the dream. We learned to enjoy the sparkle of other people’s moments. But we stopped asking:
What am I excited about? What am I counting down toward?
If the answer is, “I don’t know,” don’t shame yourself.
Just listen. Because that’s your soul saying,
“I’m ready to want something again.”
Joy Isn’t Only Found in Arrival—It’s Found in the Approach
Some studies say we actually enjoy planning the vacation more than taking it. That’s not because the trip is bad. It’s because the brain lights up with hope during anticipation. The body softens. The mind plays. The heart becomes childlike again.
The same thing happens with your dreams.
When you let yourself imagine the future in vivid, delicious detail—
the room you’ll paint in,
the project you’ll launch,
the new chapter you’ll walk into—
you are no longer “waiting for life to begin.”
You’re already in motion.
Want to Reclaim a Dream? Start Here.
If your dream feels too far away to chase today, I have one question:
Can you anticipate it instead?
Can you write it on a Post-it and whisper, “You’re on your way”?
Can you carve out a corner of your calendar and label it mine?
Can you make space in your home or your closet or your mind for the woman you’re becoming?
You don’t have to overhaul your life this weekend.
You just have to start smiling at the fireworks before they go off.
Let Joy Arrive Early
Last night on the patio, I realized something.
Whether I made it to the rooftop or not, whether anyone showed up with a chair for me or not, the anticipation of joy was already mine.
And maybe that’s the quiet victory in all of this:
I don’t have to wait to be chosen.
I don’t have to wait for perfect timing.
I don’t have to wait for the dream to be delivered like a package.
I can feel it coming.
And that…
That might just be the sweetest part.
✨ P.S. If your dream feels far away…
The BREAKTHROUGH guide is designed to help you reconnect with joy, direction, and your sense of self—especially if it’s been a while since you’ve looked forward to something just for you. It’s not a workbook to fix you. It’s a companion to remind you: there’s still more life to be lived—and you’re allowed to look forward to it.
If you’d like to receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a paid subscriber. Your support helps me keep creating beauty, boldness, and breakthroughs—one story (and brushstroke) at a time.
P.S. A surprising number of people visited my online art gallery this week—thank you for that. If you’re one of the ones quietly exploring, you can view all available originals and prints here: [insert link]
I may not be able to see who you are, but I feel you showing up. And I’m so grateful.
This is lovely and insightful. I realize that anticipation is what has dimmed for me now that I’m in my 70’s. I need to find new things, new goals and aspirations. What will my husband be like? what will I be when I grow up? how will I decorate my house? no longer excite me. I’ve already done everything on my bucket list.