Patience is one of those virtues I have always struggled with. I remember as a kid being impatient about the passing of time and the milestones you “can’t wait” to achieve. 

 

“I can’t wait ’til I’m in high school,” I can’t wait ’til I get my driver’s license,” “I can’t wait to get my own place,” etc., etc.

 

And your parents saying, “Don’t wish your life away,” didn’t help build the virtue of patience either. 

I think one of the most profound tests of patience came in childbearing. 

 

The excitement of finding out you are expecting a new life is like no other. Then waiting and preparing and waiting some more for the day of birth sometimes seemed unbearable. The resounding advice was “Be patient. God is in charge. Enjoy the waiting.” Enjoy waiting? What?

 

Waiting seemed to equal time lost. For instance, when we sit in the doctor’s office waiting to be seen it’s hard to enjoy the time to read and just be still. Instead we check our watch and wonder why it takes so long, especially when they tell you to come early! 

 

Today, being patient can be even more difficult with the advent of technology. 

 

If my computer doesn’t boot up in several seconds, I become anxious.

 

If I swipe my phone and it takes more than a blink in time, I feel incensed. All our conveniences are geared to go, go, go. Hurry and go and get on to the next thing, event or experience.

 

Think of all the things we take for granted — lights coming on automatically, cars starting without keys, information retrieved on demand with the help of Siri, Alexa and Google. All these conveniences feed the beast of impatience.

 

When we lose these things and the ability to be immediately gratified, we can get a little cranky. 

 

And then there is illness, injury and, of course, aging. These are the real tests for heroic patience. When a part of our body doesn’t work like it once did or go as fast as it once did, we get impatient and even frustrated. 

 

This summer I have experienced one of those kinds of tests. I have undergone two surgeries in one of my eyes and the recovery is still ongoing. It is still uncertain just how well my sight will return and there is no medicine but time. My prescription is waiting. 

 

The healing is taking its course in its time, just as God intended. And in the meantime, there are some things I can’t do as well or as quickly as I did before. There are some things that I must do differently and they take longer. There is no voice activated command or computer processor that can change or accelerate nature’s course. You just have to wait. And remember what I said in the first sentence? Yeah, it’s a struggle.

 

I would like to write that all this has caused a great epiphany and I now have the patience of saint as the cliché goes. I do not. I still get impatient with myself and wish I could see like I did before. Getting impatient and frustrated won’t fix it or make the time go faster. God has a lesson for me.

 

What I can say is that God has helped me channel my impatience into a new realization of what it means to accept those things we can’t control like in the Serenity Prayer. Yes, I may not have any new found patience, but I do have a better understanding of the impatience of others. I can now understand the frustration of the ailing, the handicapped and the elderly. 

 

In my waiting I’ve been able to gain respect for the way we adapt ourselves. I have a new admiration and wonder for the senses God gives us. I have a new gratitude for the gifts and skills of medical professionals and care givers. 

 

I am thankful that you, the readers of The Observer, were patient in waiting for this column to return. 

 

But most of all, I am glad God is patient with me and with all of us and that as scripture tells us, he truly waits for us. And I am certainly glad He’s better at it than I am.