Patience- Wait For It

Waiting is something I have never been very good at. A lot of that has to do with being the youngest child and a girl to boot. Add to that big blue eyes, a freckle on the end of my nose, a good amount of common sense and you have a girl use to getting her way when she wants it. You also have a girl that can throw an epic temper-tantrum when she doesn’t. I’ve told all of you before that I am not perfect. I will go one step further and tell you I am fatally flawed.

Is that not what you thought of me?

Then the internet has been kind. I am a brat by nature.

Those that love me give me way too much leeway. Those that don’t know me do so less with each passing year. Want to know why? Because even cute little brats have to grow up and put on their big girl britches eventually.

[Dramatic hair flip]

Thankfully God blessed me with some intelligence and that bit of common sense. These have saved me from the fatal flaw I talked about up there.  Oh, the flaw is still there and probably the reason for my panic attacks throughout the years, but it is no longer fatal. Very rarely do I go full brat anymore.

A couple years back, when the kids were only two in number, I prayed for patience. Hmm… I had another child and prayed for more patience. Stupid girl! I had another child and prayed for even more patience. Can you fix stupid? I had another child. Okay! I get it! I get it!

Finally, when I was elbow deep in baby poo, snot bubbles, finger painting…on the freshly finished wall, puked on, pooed on, peed on…the list is so long. Finally, I realized that batting my baby-blues had no weight with crying children. You’ve heard me say I don’t negotiate with terrorist children. Well, that can flip. Children do not negotiate with spoiled momma’s either. Get to the point I was above and everything becomes crystal clear.

Children will make you lose your mind or bring out every bit of wonderful you never knew you had.

You want a clean house that people can eat off of the floors? Too bad. Life happens and no matter how many times you scrub that floor…many times while sobbing…children will spill on it, walk on it, live on it, play slip-n-slide butt naked across it with a tub of butter and a gallon of milk. Not to worry, the children will eat off the floor. Your hard work rewarded. 😛

You want pristine furniture. Really? Do you know what children do to nice couches that cost $1000? They color on it with permanent markers. Silly, you’ll be paying on it for two more years. Never to the crappy couch you picked up at the thrift store for $20. You know the one that no matter how much Fabreeze you douse it in, it smells faintly of roadkill? Hmm…that’s why it was $20. 😉

You want a real wood table that will seat 10 with the leaf in? A solid oak number? But what will you do when those children super glue a model airplane to the table or again with permanent marker, green this time, (hide those, smart one) color a picture book for you one sheet of notebook paper at a time?

You cry.

But what do you do when those children crawl into your lap and kiss away your tears? Then the silly little things ask you why you are crying.

They are loud and rude and messy and sometimes mean, but when they bat those doughy eyes and kiss away your tears…sigh…all is as it should be.

My children have taught me patience…God sent them with a kiss.  They’ve taught me so much more than that. If you are a momma, you know. If you are an aunt or uncle or involved with a child, you know.

You learn that people are more important than things and if you are really meant to have those things, wait for them, God is still teaching you patience.

Peace, love, and God’s will.

About Diane Graham

Diane Graham lives in the mountains of eastern Oklahoma with her husband, children and many dogs. She is an avid reader and lover of all art forms that encapsulate imagination and goodness. Her debut novel I Am Ocilla was released in March 2012.

4 comments on “Patience- Wait For It

  1. Oh how I know this, Princess. That children bring forth patience. The patience comes in handy then the children have children.

    ❤ Love you little sister.

  2. Amen to all of the above. My girl came and sat on me yesterday. She’s eleven, and getting too heavy for that. When I protested, she shifted over to the arm of my chair, but she absolutely refused to go away. So I put aside what I was working on, and helped her with her math as she insisted.

    I stink at math–I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this? I haven’t always stunk at math as badly as I do now, but chemical toxicity reactions seem to affect my ability to function effectively in this area, and, let’s face it, although I get algebraic math theory just fine, word problems have been my bane since childhood.

    She had a whole page’s worth of word problems, both sides (one was finished, but–). When I got to looking at what she’d already done, I realized that she and her math partner of the day hadn’t had a clue what they were doing, AND they didn’t let on to the teacher, or they could have had expert help figuring it out. Instead she turned to me. Oy!

    So, we both had a refresher course in using our brains to do math. There was a lot of erasing involved, and even more giggling and hugging, and silliness. It took us at least 3x as long as it should have, but as reluctantly as I’d put my work aside, I realized when we finished, that I wouldn’t have traded that experience for doing what I’d been doing before instead.

    • Sounds like a good time, Krysti. I like those stolen moments of wonderful slipped in by accident. Makes them all the more valuable. 😀

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