Grandma says – “All things come to those who wait.”
I was shocked the other day when someone said that they envied me my ability to be patient. I said to myself, “How could this person possibly not know how truly inpatient I am? Perhaps it is simply the fact that I, at 76 years old, seem to be patient. After all, I am reminded daily or sometimes minute-by-minute that I am truly powerless over other people, places and things.
As a child, I would wait to see if Santa had heeded my plea for a particular item to be placed under the Christmas tree. One year, I got the guitar I longed for. My parents had found a used one which, to me, was the best guitar in the whole world. Sadly, they forget to order up a modicum of talent or at least an “ear.” Still, for a time I carried around that guitar as I moved from place to place.
Most of my childhood, when not doing farm chores or being my father’s goffer on his latest project, was spent praying to be old enough to leave home and have a life of my own. Now, as any older person will confirm, time sprints daily getting very close to the finish line. Still, there is a part of me which often wants to hasten time or to dictate to the God of my understanding what he, she or it should be doing. At other times, I am being mentored by Job and asking why I am not getting what I want and deserve. At such times, I quickly add up the “points” I have earned and impatiently wait for the newest metaphor for that guitar. This could be anything from a payment from a client arriving, the health of a loved one being restored, or even something as simple as the fumes in the gas tank carrying me to the next gas station. Of course, in the latter case I have waited until the last possible moment to get gas because I was looking for the most convenient gas station which also had the cheapest gas and a decent bathroom. Then there are the times I pray for the recovery of those loved ones who struggle with addiction or the arrival of the perfect medication to treat the mental illness of a loved one.
Not infrequently, after having convinced myself that I have both been patient and am open to an outcome which looks nothing like that for which I have been praying, I hear myself repeating the oft spoken admonition of Ann Lamott. “God would it have been too much skin off your nose to heal this person or protect my child, or … “
I reluctantly - and occasionally gratefully - have been able to accept that what I got was exactly what I needed. Of course, frequently this acceptance is a direct result of the ability to look back 10, 20, 30 or even 70 years and follow the yellow brick road to Kansas.
What I prayed for may be very different than what I get and yet it is exactly “the right outcome” in terms of my spiritual growth.
My friend Becky frequently writes about the opportunities which challenges present. It is tempting to curse God, fate, or simply my luck when I am lacking the ability to see how “all things come to those who wait” or play out in life and the life of those I love.
It is tempting for this human to believe that it is my job to determine the outcome or to state the outcome of a situation or event.
Again, and again, I must accept that each nanosecond of my life has brought events which, when connected to each other, bring me all that I spiritually and even emotionally treasure.
Even as a relatively young woman Grandma Fannie “knew” this while it has taken me much longer to accept it. I don’t even know whether accepting and knowing it are the same. I do know that, once again, I must bow down to the wisdom of Grandma Fannie: “All things come to those who wait.”
Written December 26, 2016
I was shocked the other day when someone said that they envied me my ability to be patient. I said to myself, “How could this person possibly not know how truly inpatient I am? Perhaps it is simply the fact that I, at 76 years old, seem to be patient. After all, I am reminded daily or sometimes minute-by-minute that I am truly powerless over other people, places and things.
As a child, I would wait to see if Santa had heeded my plea for a particular item to be placed under the Christmas tree. One year, I got the guitar I longed for. My parents had found a used one which, to me, was the best guitar in the whole world. Sadly, they forget to order up a modicum of talent or at least an “ear.” Still, for a time I carried around that guitar as I moved from place to place.
Most of my childhood, when not doing farm chores or being my father’s goffer on his latest project, was spent praying to be old enough to leave home and have a life of my own. Now, as any older person will confirm, time sprints daily getting very close to the finish line. Still, there is a part of me which often wants to hasten time or to dictate to the God of my understanding what he, she or it should be doing. At other times, I am being mentored by Job and asking why I am not getting what I want and deserve. At such times, I quickly add up the “points” I have earned and impatiently wait for the newest metaphor for that guitar. This could be anything from a payment from a client arriving, the health of a loved one being restored, or even something as simple as the fumes in the gas tank carrying me to the next gas station. Of course, in the latter case I have waited until the last possible moment to get gas because I was looking for the most convenient gas station which also had the cheapest gas and a decent bathroom. Then there are the times I pray for the recovery of those loved ones who struggle with addiction or the arrival of the perfect medication to treat the mental illness of a loved one.
Not infrequently, after having convinced myself that I have both been patient and am open to an outcome which looks nothing like that for which I have been praying, I hear myself repeating the oft spoken admonition of Ann Lamott. “God would it have been too much skin off your nose to heal this person or protect my child, or … “
I reluctantly - and occasionally gratefully - have been able to accept that what I got was exactly what I needed. Of course, frequently this acceptance is a direct result of the ability to look back 10, 20, 30 or even 70 years and follow the yellow brick road to Kansas.
What I prayed for may be very different than what I get and yet it is exactly “the right outcome” in terms of my spiritual growth.
My friend Becky frequently writes about the opportunities which challenges present. It is tempting to curse God, fate, or simply my luck when I am lacking the ability to see how “all things come to those who wait” or play out in life and the life of those I love.
It is tempting for this human to believe that it is my job to determine the outcome or to state the outcome of a situation or event.
Again, and again, I must accept that each nanosecond of my life has brought events which, when connected to each other, bring me all that I spiritually and even emotionally treasure.
Even as a relatively young woman Grandma Fannie “knew” this while it has taken me much longer to accept it. I don’t even know whether accepting and knowing it are the same. I do know that, once again, I must bow down to the wisdom of Grandma Fannie: “All things come to those who wait.”
Written December 26, 2016
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