Our Willingness To Wait Reveals The Value We Place On The Object We’re Waiting For

“Actually, I’m unable to wait can I speak to your manager?”

I’m such a broad sometimes.

This is the reason my credit card company has miraculously ‘forgotten’ to send my new credit card out and I was without petty cash for two weeks. Lovely. I’m busy, I don’t have 87 breaks I can take from my life to care for trivial things. Woe do I miss the times I could collect stickers, work on my acrylic painting, clip coupons, send thank you cards, not flake on lunches. You know, listen to he voices in my head. The voices—they say interesting things. You get where this is going.

I attribute waiting with being passed on, passed by, not chosen, missing the boat, something slightly short of hopeless. So since childhood I haven’t liked waiting. Patience is for the birdies who don’t have anything better to do than wait in line, wait to be replaced, wait on someone else to cook up a recipe for something else Lalanii should spaz out about.

And then, I met someone who surprises me regularly. Surprises force you to have patience.

I took up high intensity interval training. Patience begets results.

I gave up sweets, carbs, and took up stock in something I haven’t in a while:

Myself.

I’ve been trusting myself and my judgments for a good six months now. Those voices, remember (there’s quite a few in there)—I’ve quieted. I’ve started to believe in my track record. Slowing down.

I still broke a glass bowl with my lunch in it today—but it wasn’t because I was rushing. It was because I was distracted. I was looking at how beautiful it was this morning. A cerulean sky kissing a lavender cloud and two off-white birds fighting over a piece of bread until the babier bird of the two decided to give up. The mean bird walked away seemingly pissed and dismissed of the situation. Baby birdie then pecked the bread, leaving a lot of it on the floor possibly for mean bird. Mean bird swooped down and they then finished the last piece together. If I’m not shocked–or shocked—did the birdies just share?? Did I forget I was holding anything and crash goes my pyrex bowl? Score.

All worth it. Still serene. There are a few things that have tested my ‘wait limit’ but  I was able to have numerous things go wrong this week and still complete the finishing  whoo hoos on my final manuscript,  fill out paperwork, order thesis bindery, cater to a sick editor/friend, and have patience enough to accept that a few things might not go my way this week.

But they may go my way in another week.

My threshold for waiting it out… extended.

I have a certain zingy feeling  now that I have more patience. Having so has made me stronger, happier, and given me more faith, first in myself and then those around me. Before I get too ‘churchy’ I must say—when I do happen to lose my patience now, it returns quicker than it used to. I also found something I like to believe is true:

“Our willingness to wait reveals the value we place on the object we’re waiting for”

—Charles Stanley

The birdies have all gone and the magical moment passes and I’m back to waiting. Writing. Reading. Editing.

And waiting is ok, and if something passes me because I’ve been busy–waiting… there’s a good chance it’s not anything I’m meant to have. I’m valuing the person I am now. I like her better because of her patience. And in case you haven’t heard it’s a virtue.

Excuse me while I go get my masters degree real quick.

Pictures from FLOWmarket. You genius people you.

The Habitual Poet: Lalanii Grant

 

My interview has been published in Poemeleon’s Literary Journal.

You’ve just gotta read this post at my Journal. Click on my breakfast.

 

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