Beautiful Old Broads are patient souls

Hello Dear Ones,

On a chilly cold January afternoon in the Hill Country.  Last week we talked about doing something positive for the New Year and I made some suggestions. Also got some feedback.  One person is being more thankful while another is going to attempt to take criticism with a cheerful heart.

 I’ve pondered and decided on Being Patient for my resolution.  At least for the next few months I’ll try to be more patient and as a reminder I’ll put the words up on my mirror and my fridge…and on my dashboard.  Yes, I can go zonkers when I’m in a hurry and the person ahead of me doesn’t pull out quickly enough or so I think.  Patience. And what about the person in front of you in the express lane at the market with a zillion items in her cart.   And then she can’t find her checkbook.  Ah…Be Patient. 

After making the decision to be more patient, I came across a column about a book called “Atchison Blue” by Judith Valente in which the author spends time at a Benedictine Monastery in search of silence and detachment.  One of the rituals that the nuns perform stuck me as so moving.  Before beginning any task together, the sisters bow to each other and say “Have patience with me”.  Such a small gesture and yet what power it projects.  How humbling to ask each other for patience.  Made me realize that small gestures can and do make a difference.  Else these nuns wouldn’t be saying that phrase to each other.  They know how humbling it is to ask of someone, the gift of patience and to give it.  To take a breath and smile and graciously overlook failures or stumbles or mistakes and say “No problem”.   

Imagine if everyone exiting a crowded parking lot had patience or how about the airport security line. Perhaps we should erect signs in public imploring. ‘Have Patience With Each Other’.  After all, we’re all walking each other home.     

Please tell me what you choose to do. You can always email me your comments.  I’m off to post my reminder on the fridge.   

  

         "I don’t want to get to the end of my life and find that I just lived the length of it.

             I want to have lived the width of it as well.”   D. Ackerman