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Impatient People…Like Me

Posted on February 8, 2013 by jphilo

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This past Wednesday was not a good day.

First, I was supposed to meet a friend for coffee in the morning and because I’d written the time down wrong, got there a half hour late. Being an impatient person, I hate to keep others waiting.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

After working on a blog post for over almost two hours, it refused to come together the way I wanted. Impatient people like me don’t have time to ~~waste~~ spend almost two hours on a single blog post.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The google chat audio feature was malfunctioning on my computer, so I missed an online meeting in the afternoon. Impatient people have no patience with technical glitches.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

A publisher rejected a piece I wrote for a devo Bible being compiled by a friend. Not only that, the publisher wanted extensive citations (including book page numbers) for a half-dozen quotes for other pieces I’d written. Impatient people don’t enjoy skimming long books to find page numbers.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Hiram spent all afternoon trying to file our income tax with Turbo Tax. He’s usually pretty patient, but after several hours of online chats with Turbo Tax experts and two phone calls, he was a little cranky. Impatient people like me think we’re the only ones with a right to be cranky.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The cold Hiram’s been fighting for two weeks came back with a vengeance that night. He ran a temperature again and coughed all night. Which didn’t sit well with a woman who needs plenty of sleep in order to be patient.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The worst of it was this. I woke up Thursday morning and realized impatient people like me spend all their time looking at gray skies. We are so focused on the gloom, we don’t even see the gap in the clouds and the sun streaming through.

Impatient people like me forget they have
friends to visit,
blogs to write,
a computer that functions flawlessly 99.9% of the time,
writing projects to complete,
income tax refunds to file,
and a husband whose job provides sick leave and excellent health insurance.

Yes, that’s the worst of it.

Dear Father, forgive me for not slowing down to look for the gap in the clouds. Forgive me for focusing on the gloomy clouds and missing the joy of the Son. Please teach me to be patient…as quickly as possible. Amen.

Those Perky, Purple Lobelia Blossoms

Posted on October 1, 2012 by jphilo

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The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness,
but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish,
but that all should reach repentance.
2 Peter 3:

I almost didn’t plant any lobelia last spring. The fussy flower doesn’t like heat and drought, and I don’t like namby-pamby plants that require extra watering and attention. But after the drab of winter, the perky purple blossoms were a bright spot of color in the local greenhouse last April, and I caved.

I planted the lobelia in an old washpan, plopped the last remaining geranium in with it, and set the pot beside the old pump in the yard. The picturesque tableau did quite nicely until the hottest, driest summer since 1988 arrived. The lobelia fried, but the geranium struggled on valiantly. So valiantly that I finally took pity on the thing and moved the washpan closer to the house where the plant could enjoy shade for part of the day.
The geranium rallied, but the lobelia looked dead. Dead enough that I almost pulled it up.

But for some reason I couldn’t make myself do it. Eventually, the weather cooled down, and tiny seedlings began poking through the crispy remains of the lobelia. More sprouted in the soil around the now thriving geranium.

“I should put the geranium in another pot and dump the dirt from the pan before those weeds produce seeds,” I told myself more than once. But something kept me from acting on the impulse. And one cool, late summer morning, I stepped outside and and was greeted by perky purple blossoms waving from the washpan. A new crop of lobelia was blooming. I was inordinately pleased.

During my quiet time the other day, 2 Peter 3:9 was quoted as the prayer of confession in our church’s monthly prayer guide. That morning, I prayed through the verse and repented of the same sins I struggle with day after day. Then I thanked God for his slow work in my life. For his patience when I wander away from his living water into spiritual drought. For looking beyond the sins that shrivel my spirit and seeing my heart for him instead. For nurturing the seeds he’s planted inside me. For encouraging new and vibrant life that will burst forth in his right time. For never giving up on me or any of his children as long as we have life and breath. For being inordinately pleased when we seek him, repent, and complete the purposes he created us to fulfill.

Then I wrote a note on next April’s calendar in my planner: Buy lobelia. It looks dead in the heat of the summer, but it comes back.

Top 10 Reasons I’m Not a Nurse

Posted on June 5, 2012 by jphilo

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My latest dual stint as care giver during Camp Dorothy and Camp Hiram reinforced a belief I’ve held for many, many years. I should never, never be a nurse. Here are the top ten reasons for drawing that conclusion.

10. A nurse’s uniform doesn’t make me look good.

9. I don’t have the patience.

8. Nurses shouldn’t get queasy giving a shot or putting in an IV.

7. I don’t have the patience.

6. Lifting wheelchairs in and out of car trunks hurts.

5. I don’t have the patience.

4. Nurses need good eye-hand coordination.

3. I don’t have the patience.

2. Blood and other bodily fluids are gross.

1. I don’t have the patience.

How about you? What are the top ten reasons you did or didn’t become a nurse? Leave a comment!

Up, Up, & Away…I Hope

Posted on April 20, 2012 by jphilo

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Hmmm…maybe flying Southwest Airlines to the Accessibility Summit (to take advantage of their 2 free bags policy to haul books & book table stuff) wasn’t such a good idea. Our plane is sitting on the runway, we’re packed in here like sardines, and the pilot announced a problem with the electrical system. The first attempt to solve the problem was unsuccessful.

A technician is on his way.

Call me crazy, but I’m developing a Southwest Airline/Accessibility Summit phobia. Last year while at the Summit, again arriving there via Southwest, the airline announced one of their planes developed a crack in the fuselage. My return flight was one of the few not grounded, so I returned home without a problem.

Though I was on fuselage crack watch the entire time.

But, back to the present problem. We’ve now been deplaned which means I won’t make my Chicago connection. The customer service representative says there’s a “good likelihood” I’ll get to Dulles tonight.

But when tonight remains a mystery.

All this trouble to take advantage of SW’s 2 free bags policy. Which I probably will need since I won’t be in the Accessibility Exhibit Hall to sell books tonight and may have a bunch to cart home on Sunday. If SW planes fly on Sunday.

I’m not holding my breath.

Suddenly, Unexpectedly

Posted on September 1, 2009 by jphilo

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Thine eyes have seen my unformed substance,
And in Thy book they were all written,
The days that were ordained for me,
When as yet there was not one of them.
Psalm 139:16

For years, I’ve been waiting for God to do something with my life. I frequently reminded Him that I’ve suffered plenty, been patient a good long while, been as faithful as I knew how to be, and that if He has plans for me, He’d better get cracking ‘cause time was a-wasting, and I wasn’t getting any younger. When I managed to keep quiet and let God work, He matured my faith and taught me to rest in His promises, spend time in His Word, enjoy the day at hand, and wait for His perfect timing to unfold.

But I didn’t keep quiet and let God work very often, which explains why He waited fifty years to move His plans for me into high gear.

But suddenly and unexpectedly, about a year ago, that’s exactly what he did. In September, my role as my mother’s primary support person ended. I was able to finish the first draft of my Different Dream manuscript of meditations for parents of really sick kids ahead of schedule.

Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, our son called from his monastery after Thanksgiving. Allen asked Hiram and me to help him find mental health treatment for the medical trauma he’d endured as a child. For the next month, God answered prayer after prayer with lightning speed. Our son’s treatment was wildly successful. Despite being on the road with him, I edited Different Dream and sent it to the publisher ahead of time.

Throughout the winter and spring, God continued to work at mock speed. Suddenly and unexpectedly, our son found a good job and the wonderful woman he’d left behind six years earlier. Mom’s house sold a day after being listed. An editor wanted to see more chapters of the mystery novel a friend and I were writing. Our daughter met her steady boyfriend. Hiram became a runner.

This summer, God revved things up even more. Suddenly and unexpectedly, the editor who read the mystery chapters asked to see the complete manuscript. Our son became engaged. The release date for Different Dream approached, and there wasn’t enough time to get everything – the website, the marketing and promotion, the mystery novel, our daughter back to college – done beforehand.

But one day, suddenly and unexpectedly, everything was finished. That morning while I walked, I thanked God for the fifty years of endurance training that had prepared me for the marathon of the past twelve months.

When I returned home after my walk, three cardboard cartons sat on the doorstep. My books had arrived, suddenly and unexpectedly. Almost like God planned it that way.

Waiting

Posted on November 29, 2007 by jphilo

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Waiting is so hard, especially for an impatient person like me. I was sure that yesterday would be the end of waiting for me. The publication committee at the house considering my book proposal, A Different Dream for My Child: Meditations for Parents of Critically and Chronically Ill Children, met yesterday. And my proposal was on the agenda. Finally, after months of waiting, I would have an answer.

Only that’s not how it happened. I got a call from the editor. The committee liked the writing. They think the topic is important and that there’s a hurting audience that needs to be reached. But they aren’t sure how to crack the market so the book gets to parents and families who need it. So the marketing people want a month to come up with a plan. If the plan’s viable, the book might be published.

I was a little disappointed until I looked outside and saw the red oak tree. A month ago, it was the last tree in the yard still hanging onto it’s leaves. Every day for weeks I checked to see if the leaves had fallen. They hadn’t. But then we went on vacation, and I got out of the habit. When I looked today, its leaves were all on the ground.

All my watching didn’t move things along, but when the time was right, the change came quickly. So I’m still waiting for the right time. And I’m pretty sure God’s chuckling as He teaches me another lesson in patience.