Patience is a variable virtue.
Some seemingly have oodles of it, flatlining their anxiety and accepting the status quo.
Others seem to have zero patience and make everyone around them miserable with their never-ending anxious stress.
I would absolutely fall in the latter category to the extreme.
When the work computer takes longer than normal to do its thing, I panic.
“What if I can’t work?” I think. “What if it never comes back?”
When weather changes travel plans, I panic, especially if I’m already on the road.
“What if I don’t get home?” I think. “What if exactly everything that I planned to the minute can’t take place?”
That is truly, utterly ridiculous, but the next time it happens, the same thoughts return.
When our daughter came six and a half years after our son, one of my very first thoughts was one of relief that the son “wouldn’t be alone.”
It’s not as though they were twins, or even had much in common as they grew up, but I always knew that they had each other, and would have each other, throughout their lives.
When the daughter fell in love, married and had her family first, I worried that again, the son would be left alone.
He, let the record show, never shared my worry. He has a full life of work, friends and service. He has a million interests. He is just fine.
He has oodles of patience to add to his many other positive personality characteristics.
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Almost exactly a year ago, he invited the friend and I to Sunday brunch, in and of itself a very big deal.
When we met his delightful companion, I could barely conceal my joy.
I tried to not scare the ever-living daylights out of her but I fear that I did not succeed.
I tried not to “interview” her as we talked about her family, her interests and her work.
It was a lovely day, and one that now will be etched in the family memory book.
There is no rushing fate.
Patience is a virtue.
His grandmother and I have prayed daily that he would find someone with whom to share his life.
We prayed that someone else would love him as much as we do, and that his new family would enrich and enlarge ours.
We never failed to tell him that we were praying for him, even though he did not see the need for it.
To be clear, he found his companion all by himself, without the kind of Fiddler on the Roof arranging his grandmother and I were so willing to give.