One of the good things about being me (as well as one of the bad things about being me) is I usually see it coming. Example: last week I realized we didn't have any replacement staples for the saddle stitch finisher of our new copier. So I tried ordering online, only to find our copier wasn't listed under our account. Emailed and got that fixed, only to find that we still didn't have the ability to order supplies online. Emailed and got that fixed, then ordered them. Then saw the low toner light and realized we didn't have any replacement toner for the new copier, either. Ordered that yesterday. Today, 30 copies into our 240-copy bulletin print job: "Add Toner." So I take the cartridge out, shake it around in a toner dance (which becomes ever-more-complicated each time I have to repeat it), and keep it going until around 150: "Add Staples." Try to MacGyver staples from our old copier in there to no avail, break for lunch, and return to find the just-in-case staples have arrived. There were a few more increasingly violent toner dances before reaching 240, but the job got done.
Granted, that's not a very riveting story, it just illustrates the point—I usually see it coming. It's mostly intuitive rather than analytical, though from the outside it often appears to be the latter. That intuition is leaving me unsettled in other areas, but it's nothing that can be easily pinned down just yet. Sometimes waiting is part of the deal. But I feel it.
One of the points raised at an Art + Theology Symposium we sponsored a couple of weeks back comes into play well here. The person said that art is a response rather than just a reaction. My hope is that seeing it coming will make me better able to respond—thoughtfully, prayerfully, honestly, effectively, and in accord with my values—rather than just react to what comes my way.