Patience

July 7, 2011

Sitting here in the hospital room with my mother is a lesson in patience.  Right now she has none and that is testing mine.  Patience, or lack thereof, has always been one of my greatest weaknesses.  But now I’m thinking, is it a weakness or a crutch?  Do I use my lack of patience as a reason to keep from doing things?  Such as, I can’t draw because I don’t have the patience for it.  Or, I can’t paint a room because I don’t have patience for the detail work.  In this way I know it is a crutch, a way to get out of trying new things simply because I do not want to put out the effort.  Ah, but doesn’t that make it a weakness as well? Vicious circles.

So here we sit, one beside the other listing to QVC drone in the background, because that is something I can listen to without listening.  My ears are tuned to her,  listening to her pleads for help to get out of bed and trying to think of a different excuse each time as to why she cannot. (No, Mama, Louie can’t get you out of bed, the nurse won’t let him.  No, Mama, I’m not calling Becky, it’s too late and I’ll wake her up.  No, Mama, Julius is too tired. He had to go home to sleep).

I can’t help but go back in my mind to a time when my grandmother was in the same predicament.  I was in high school and college and she lived in the “Grandma” room at our house.  Back then I was more interested in going out and being a teenager, and resentfulness set in when I had to give up my time to stay home with her.  I didn’t even know the concept of patience back then.  I regret those feelings, and I have asked forgiveness many times. But these thoughts still plague me when I hear some of the same words Granny would say come out of my mother’s mouth. (Somebody please help me!)

But I think patience is a learned skill.  We’re certainly not born with it.  Just look at any two-year old for proof.  I’m not the same person I was 30 years ago, as the mirror constantly reminds me.   The reflection of the body is hurtful to my eyes, but it is the reflection of the soul that I see as an improvement.  (Julius has gone home; he can’t come back right now.  No, I don’t have a phonebook to look up his number.) I’m nowhere near perfect in my matured level of patience.  I still want what I want when I want it.  But I have learned to be more patient with others. Especially with this patient in the bed beside my chair.