the weight of a wait

I am an anxious waiter. Not the type that serves you food (although I’m really nervy when it comes to that too!) but the type that is told to be patient. I really don’t like waiting around. To me, waiting around is time that I could be busy doing something productive – moving forward. I know that this approach, however ambitious, has an adverse impact on my attitude. While walking to work I get really riled if I have to wait behind a couple of mom’s taking up the sidewalk while chatting and pushing prams; I get antsy waiting to hear back about a new job (nudge nudge, for those who read “what curiosity did”); I look at my watch no less than 10 times when waiting for friends/family who run late; I struggle with waiting to make large purchases (this, however, is definitely improving); I just dislike waiting, in general.
It’s not necessarily the waiting that irks me, but more the unknown. Waiting generally stirs a sense of uncertainty and if I don’t know what to expect from tomorrow I get panicky.
I’m not naïve; I know there is value in using time spent waiting, to learn and grow. But I just figure that I’m only here for a limited time and 1/3 of that is spent sleeping so I’d really like to make the most of the other 2/3’s. I know that every time I’m told to be patient it is a lesson in handing over control to He who is bigger and wiser than me. As a good friend told me, “We think that life lessons are a combination lock and if we just get the right combination we’ll move on when, in actual fact, they’re a time lock.” So, no matter what we do, we just have to wait it out. *sigh* If patience is a virtue, I think I’m one down.