Patience, thy name is…


Not mine. Patience is a funny thing. Well, no, it isn’t actually funny at all. For me, I have been accused of NOT being patient. I am a Gemini. We rarely finish things. Why? It takes too long. I have got a whole entire building in back of my tiny house that is filled with projects begun, projects to do, and things I might use in a future project yet to be discovered.

When I read a book, I race through the ending, because I can’t wait to find out what is going to happen. I DVR shows, so I can fast-forward through the commercials to get to the end. I walk Hattie, fast, so I can get onto the next thing, which may just be more reading. I count days until company comes, a holiday arrives, and my next trip to somewhere happens. I had a dog once, whose age I recorded weekly on a calendar, just so I could see that someday, she would get to be three years old–a manageable age for her breed. I often wonder if I am wishing my life away, or if I am just eager to live it.

So, on Monday, I got a life reminder from a Kindergartener. I have watched this little fellow since he was three. He was a crier, and shy. The first day I met him, he wouldn’t look at me for half the morning, but I noticed that he gradually was moving closer to me, and by the end of that day, he was leaning against me with his arm across my lap, my new best friend. He has grown a lot since then. After all, he is five years old. His daddy was going to meet him in the cafeteria for lunch, and we were early. Daddy hadn’t arrived, and the little guy began to cry. Dad arrived, saved the day as dads can only do, and the tears stopped.

On the way back to the classroom, I reminded him that he needed to have patience, and give things time to work out. (Yeah, like I do that. Not.) He said, “Well, I am not good with patience.” Hoo-boy.
Reminder: None of us are. It’s something God wants us to work on.


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