I am not a patient person by nature.

In fact, early in our relationship, my husband gave me the gift of a notepad with a drawing of two vultures sitting on a branch one of them saying to the other, “Patience my ass, I’m going out to kill something.” Every time my husband looked at the notepad he laughed, saying to me, “This is so you.”

“Patience, grasshopper,” said Maia. “Good things come to those who wait.”
“I always thought that was ‘Good things come to those who do the wave,'” said Simon. “No wonder I’ve been so confused all my life.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Glass

Sometimes my inborn impatience was good (sort of). In my ignorance, I jumped in and tackled things that had I known more, I would have never attempted. I got things done.

But sometimes it was damaging—to relationships and myself.

Often, my impatience was grounded in judgments I learned as a child about laziness, duty, fear of not enough, and lack of compassion for individual differences.

That impatience led me to value getting things done over the needs and feelings of people. It caused great internal frustration when things didn’t happen as quickly as I thought they should.

“Make your ego porous. Will is of little importance, complaining is nothing, fame is nothing. Openness, patience, receptivity, solitude is everything.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke

It has been a lifetime journey bringing those damaging hidden judgments to light and working on changing them.

I’ve been given many lessons in patience over the years. From health challenges to raising children to staying in a marriage for 36 years, lessons abound.

Somehow, I was blessed with good friends, a patient and stubborn spouse, and delightful kids who slowly but surely taught me about patience.

And I work on becoming more patient and accepting through my meditation and prayer practice.

For many years my silent internal mantra has been “I am patient. I am patient. I am patient.”

Some days I am more successful than others. This week, as I fight off a cold virus that knocked me and my plans for the week catawampus, I get to practice patience once again.

Learning Patience from Trees

I look outside the windows at the bare trees standing patiently through the winter days and learn from them about patience.

The cold winds blow and snow falls and still they stand.

A thaw comes and fog is in the air. Still they stand.

Spring may be early. Spring may be late. Still they stand, uncomplaining.

I feel a great sense of calm and benevolence from the trees.

There is a season for everything.

Things that seem terrible turn out to be great blessings. Things that seem wonderful sometimes turn out to be painful.

Everything that has happened in my life—each “success,” each “failure,” each moment—has led me to have faith that each moment is perfect, just as it is.

“Knowing trees, I understand the meaning of patience. Knowing grass, I can appreciate persistence.”
― Hal Borland

It may take years or even a lifetime for the hidden blessings of events to reveal themselves, but practicing patience and acceptance yields blessings.