Patience, People (not just for Advent anymore!)

I like to think that I'm a patient person. I remember a time, years ago, that The Princess and I (way before The Dictator was ever born) hung out in the urgent care "isolation" room laughing and carrying on, waiting for someone to confirm what a mother always knows: pink eye, strep throat, and a need for antibiotics.

I have mastered the art of waiting in the pediatrician's office -- sometimes for 2 hours or longer -- knowing that the end result (as much time as we need with a woman I trust implicitly) will be worth the wait. We bring a "bag of tricks" packed with our own crayons and toys (we'll keep to our own germs, thank you) and wait with juice boxes and little snacks, knowing to hunker down and keep our cool.

The Princess and I have spent much time in the examination room, tweaking the paper gown into a garment more fashion-forward, a pale pink paper prom gown.

The shoulders we twisted into rosettes; the boxiness we folded into a saucy wrap dress.

The Dictator and I have laughed as she tried to cover her giraffe-like legs with the inadequacy of a gown made for children her age but not for children her height.

How can they not realize that 7-year olds come in many shapes and sizes?

I am coming to the realization, though, that I must be only patient because I know that there is an end in sight. We can't wait longer than office hours last, per se. It's finite.

If I knew that our unemployment would end in July, for example, I think I might relax and feel the gift of this time off -- like a well-earned if under-funded vacation.

But that's not faith, is it? It's the unknown, unseen that we have to still trust in and have faith about.

Patience. Work on that this Lent.