Recently I've discovered T.S. Eliot, who speaks of the idea of death and birth and much, much more in his "Four Quartets." The following passage convicted me one evening last week, when I was tempted to throw a temper tantrum and demand a baby from God NOW! Lessons in waiting.
"I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and love and the hope are all in the waiting.