Close up Hands Tea x

Sit a bit and hear some observational stories I’ve been steeping.

Crap happens, be patient.

Having gone through some wickedly rough patches of life recently – and I’m not whining, because I know we’ve ALL been hit hard, this year especially – a beloved friend sent me an inspirational essay that contained a biblical quote that, in a nutshell, tells how life’s difficulties gives patience a chance to grow, making us strong and prepared for anything (James 1:2–4).

 

I do believe my soul is now outfitted in full riot gear, squinting from left to right, whispering in a raspy voice, “Bring it on, Cheeseball.”  Oh, we might be ready for what the world has to offer, but we’re still working on the patience aspect.  Maybe that’s why my cosmic doorbell keeps ringing with yet another craptastic opportunity to continue this process of preparedness. Really, I’m okay with that, except I feel as though life has just become a never-ending boot camp of psyche Preparation H (E, double-hockey sticks – I know how the story ends: wailing of souls, gnashing of teeth, etc.).

 

It’s just that I would be so incredibly grateful to get a break now and then, catch my breath and sit back with what I fantasize to be a well-rounded existence – which in my mind translates to a moderately full belly, heart and bank account – not overstuffed, but “just enough”.

 

Sure, there are lovely moments of peace in our household.  Like now, for instance… computer softly humming, chirping birds around the feeder outside, Alice the cat behind me meowing now and again for attention and petting (which leads my husband to comment how the keyboard always seems to have its own five o’clock shadow).

 

As far as the whole patience thing?  Well that stuff is abundantly available when all is right in the world or, at the very least, quiet.  My best Sound of Music Mother Superior smiles are easy to whip out of my hat (habit?) when there is no triple-digit heat to transform my household utilities into triple-digit bills.  Dinners around the table at my house could be repeat episodes of Father Knows Best instead of Father Knows Stress (and back pain and knee pain and job woes and freeways and – I’ll stop singing, you know the lyrics).  It’s hard to be calm when hot air is swirling all around you.

 

There is another verse that I really do like, that tells how God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. I believe that, but lately I think someone up there has forgotten to forward a few memos with critical information about my breaking point.  My cheeks are not waterproof and down here, in the real world, science has recently proven that a person can indeed die of a broken heart.

 

Tuesday, September 22nd is the first official day of autumn when the calendar indicates that leaves change, fall to the ground and trees will rest until March.  I’d like to put in my official request that I be excused from this season’s Great Patience Exercises to turn over my own new leaf, be allowed to rest for a few months so that I can quietly grow through the winter and by the arrival of spring be refreshed and ready for anything.  I’m not making any promises, but I bet you’ll see some improvement in the patience department, too.

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