I’m Starting To Get Impatient

I consider myself a patient man. It comes naturally to me. I think I must be hard wired for patience. I remember one day as a child of about seven-years-old. Mom was talking to a neighbor in our backyard and I was standing next to her.

“Mom?” I asked.

“Just wait a minute, Scotty, I’m talking.”

This was a common occurrence. Mom is a long-winded woman. When she’s got something to say, there is nothing that will shorten the story, replete with half a dozen rabbit trails. So, she continued to talk to our neighbor, and I continued to wait patiently next to her. After a while I tried again.

“Mom!” The issue was beginning to feel urgent.

“Scotty, I said I was talking, now just a minute.”

I waited and waited, but the “minute” was no where near sixty seconds. Mom droned on and on. For a seven-year-old, it was actually a remarkable feat of patience to stand quietly next to my mother for 15 or twenty minutes waiting for her to finish the story. I didn’t run off to play, I didn’t go inside the house to hang out with my siblings, and I didn’t call to our dachshund, Schultz, to keep me company. I just stood by her side waiting patiently.

Finally, the issue could wait no longer.

“Mom!”

“Now you’ve interrupted me. What is it?”

“Mom, you’re standing on my foot.”

From a young age I’ve been that person who doesn’t complain under a difficult circumstance. I know how to bear up under uncomfortable situations. There are a few exceptions to this rule. I actually get unusually impatient in three circumstances.

1. Check-out lines at the grocery store. This also translates to most any line-waiting arrangement.
2. Driving. I’ll jockey for the best lane when driving behind someone who is not going at least 5 mph over the speed limit.
3. Being part of a small group where one person talks too much (hmm. Wonder where this comes from. Probably some childhood trauma).

So now, COVID-19 is beginning to wear on my natural inclination toward patience. This pandemic has become the person who won’t let anyone else get a word in edgewise. It’s the white-haired gentlemen driving 5 mph under the speed limit with an open road open in front of him. I can feel impatience tapping me on the shoulder, inviting me to lash out.

In my healthier moments, while waiting in line, or stuck in traffic, I challenge myself not to look at my watch. “The time is, whatever the time is,” I tell myself. “Looking at my watch won’t change that.”

So, I’m trying not to look at my watch as the shelter in place order drones on and on. I am taking this opportunity to wean myself from my addiction to going places and getting stuff done. I’m trying to awaken the gift of waiting. Praying. Serving. Listening.

I breath in, “The Lord is my shepherd.”

I breath out, “I shall lack nothing.”