The Art of Waiting

 Timeless Messages

There is something truly magical about receiving postcards and letters from across the world. Each piece of paper carries not only words but fragments of time, history, and emotions, unfolding stories that teach us valuable lessons about patience, waiting, and the passage of time.

From a delicate postcard depicting an 18th-century bridge in China, revealing the unique architectural heritage and mentioning influential figures like Mao Zedong, to a heartfelt letter from a loved one reminding me that “life is full of ups and downs” and that seeing the world helps us realize we are never truly alone, every message carries its own weight and wisdom.

A kind Norwegian lady sent me over ten postcards from the last century, some dating as far back as 1915. The handwriting itself feels like a portal to a different era, where untold love stories, untouched cultures, and forgotten garments come alive, teaching me the beauty of enduring connections despite the relentless flow of time.

From magical French landscapes to the unique Japanese embroidery style called Nihon, from the serene Orthodox Church of Saint Dimitrios in Thessaloniki to the timeless beauty of Wilayat Mutrah in Muscat, Oman, these postcards capture moments frozen in time, each teaching me the value of waiting and appreciating the present.

Even joyful traditions like the Armenian water festival Vardavar, where strangers and friends alike splash water in the streets, remind me that life’s simple pleasures are worth waiting for.

Each postcard, each stamp, each handwritten line holds a story some funny, like the guilty secret of a pencil stolen from a hotel, others profound, like the famous words of Eleanor Roosevelt: “The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.”

Through these small pieces of paper, I have learned that patience is not just about waiting; it is about understanding time’s gift, embracing stories from the past, and connecting with people and cultures in ways that no instant message ever could.

In a world where everything happens at lightning speed, these postcards remind me to slow down and truly appreciate the journey. The days, weeks, sometimes months it takes for a letter to arrive transform waiting into a meaningful experience, rather than a frustrating pause. This slow rhythm allows us to reflect, to imagine the sender’s world, and to build a connection that spans distance and time.

Moreover, the physicality of postcards and letters, the texture of the paper, the unique handwriting, the stamps that have traveled thousands of miles, creates a tangible link between people. It’s a sensory experience lost in today’s digital communications, where messages vanish as quickly as they appear. This tangibility teaches me that patience is intertwined with presence; to wait is to be present in the moment and in the story shared.

What makes this waiting even more special is the mystery behind each arrival. You never know from where the next postcard will come, which corner of the world will send its message next. This unpredictable anticipation adds a unique kind of excitement, a quiet thrill in wondering who will reach out, what story they will share, and how it will enrich the tapestry of my collection. It is a waiting filled with curiosity and hope, a reminder that connection can come from the most unexpected places.

The stories behind these postcards also reveal that waiting can be an act of hope. Each one is a promise that someone, somewhere, took the time to think of me, to share a piece of their world. That hopeful waiting builds anticipation and deepens the value of the eventual connection, teaching me that some things are worth the time they take.

These messages remind me, too, that time is layered. The postcard from 1915 sits alongside more recent ones, blending histories and eras into a single narrative. Through these layers, I see how cultures evolve yet remain connected by universal human emotions, love, curiosity, kindness, that transcend generations.

Ultimately, these postcards are more than just souvenirs; they are lessons written in ink and paper. They teach patience by making me wait, teach me to appreciate the passage of time by connecting me to the past, and teach me to value human connection in a way no instant notification ever could.

Nena

“Patience is not simply the ability to wait – it’s how we behave while we’re waiting.”
— Joyce Meyer