Disney World and Waiting

With the recent flood of live-action remakes of Disney classics, it feels like there has been a Disney nostalgia in the air. I have cried actual tears in those velvet theatre seats as I watch my childhood princesses and heroes play out in spectacular full-screen glory and listen as the songs that soundtrack my childhood are brought to life again on the big screen.

My parents recently moved to Orlando, and on a recent visit to their new house, I went to Disney World with two friends who had never been before. We went to Magic Kingdom on the Fourth of July, when everybody else in the world decides it's a good idea to celebrate our freedom in a place that is acutely American: overpriced fast food, tempting and repulsive at the same time; assaulting displays of plush dolls and apparel screaming for purchase on every corner; and the subtle yet powerful message that you are the hero of the story (I’m a princess too!)

For their first time at Disney, I wanted my friends to see all the magic, wonder, and wallet-emptying glory of the Kingdom that our friend Walt built for us. I made a plan and mapped out our route. We reserved Fastpasses and packed lunches in a cooler. We hit the park hard at 8am, ready to dodge stroller-pushing parents and weave through families wearing matching shirts with their names on them. Move, Brenda! I've got a Flying Carpet to catch!

I was eager to share with my friends the nostalgia of the Mad Tea Party ride, and how my dad would always spin the teacup a million miles an hour, or at least it felt like that as a seven-year-old. I wanted them to feel the magic of meeting a real life princess, and stand in awe like I did when I had met Belle. I hoped that they would see the grandiosity of a parade down Main Street, or maybe even get to join in the parade, like my family had one time when my parents had accidentally led us toward the parade starting point while searching for the park exit, where a Disney cast member kindly invited us to don tutus and dance in the parade.

What I remembered most as a child was the magic of the rides, the beauty of the princesses, the glow of the fireworks. Yet what I'll remember most as an adult is the waiting. Out of the fifteen hour day we had, we probably spent about ten hours waiting. Waiting in line to scan our tickets at the entrance. Waiting in line for the Dumbo ride. Waiting in line for our third ice cream of the day. Waiting in line to meet Princess Jasmine and Aladdin surrounded by adorable little girls dressed as miniature Jasmines. Waiting in line for the monorail, the final ride of the day, to take us back to the parking lot.

I don't have any memories of waiting in line as a kid, but I cannot understand how my parents kept us so entertained in line before the age of smartphones. I watched the people around me in line and how they decided to use their waiting time. Many, kids and adults alike, succumbed to the addictive pull of the smartphone. Some were playing charades or other games. Some were chatting, some were eating snacks from Ziploc baggies.

While we waited, my friends and I sang the songs we remembered from our childhood and reminisced about the movies we loved. We told stories about childhood, and about adulthood, and about growing up. And when the delirium of exhaustion set in at about 11:30pm in the line for the Snow White ride, we sat on the ground and laughed at the utter absurdity of this magical place and how there could possibly still be so many people in line.

A less-than-perfect moment in the rain, with only one poncho.

Disney World is both a perfectly crafted world meant to feel like an escape from life, and also a really good example of what life is actually like. We go to Disney World because we want to be swept away by the magic, to remember what it's like to be a kid and have a permanent "Wow!" on your lips. But when we go to Disney World, we don’t escape the world; life follows us, and kids have meltdowns and we fight about money and our feet hurt and we get sunburn and we don't even think Belle looks like the real Belle.

That's exactly why Disney World is like life. We spend much of life waiting for the high moments - the drop at Splash Mountain, the highest point on the Flying Carpets, the fastest turns on Space Mountain - while most of life is furnished with ordinary moments, ordinary times, and ordinary waiting. We can’t escape those times, but we can fill them with ordinary goodness.

In general I'm not good at waiting in lines - I got that from my dad, who wouldn’t wait in a line longer than 30 minutes even if they told him they were handing out checks for a million dollars. But I'm also not great at waiting in life. I live in the fast lane, and I’m speeding at least ten over. I like to experience lots of things and move quickly. And if there is something I want in life that isn’t happening quick enough (according to my agenda), move over, everyone, because I won’t be waiting much longer. I relate most to the character of the persistent widow in one of Jesus’s parables, who would just not stop bugging the judge until she got what she wanted. If I’m waiting, I’m working.

Yet my obsessive pursuit of the fast-paced life is counter to the very life we’re called to live in the Kingdom of God. In the Kingdom, things are upside down: the high moments are actually the ones that are seemingly unmemorable. The quiet sun peeking in through the blinds to greet you before a busy day. The soft silence on the couch with a friend as they grieve a loss. The day-in-day-out faithfulness of doing the work in front of you while you await the fulfillment of a promise or dream.

The theme of waiting is all over the Bible; arguably, it's the story of the longest wait ever. It’s a story of people like us waiting for God to free them, and it’s a story of God waiting for the right time to send the One who would free us all. And the long-awaited hero of the Bible is so much better than we could dream up or imagine. Better than Aladdin, Ariel, or any other hero. He doesn’t give out autographs and strike a pose for a picture; instead He offers a healing touch, and a gentle word of belonging and love. And beyond anything else, He is so worth the wait. And in my experience at Disney, the longer the wait, the better the ride.