“Love is patient . . . “                                                                                                    1 Corinthians 13:4

I am listening to the song of a very large wind chime out the window.  And it’s song reminds me of patience.  It is deep and low.  Slow.  Quiet.  Certainly not in a hurry.  It waits for the next gust of wind, happy to respond when it comes but not causing it to happen.

If I were to personify this old wind chime and its sounds, I imagine an old grandfather, probably chubby and teddy bear-like in all the right ways, sitting on a bench, waiting for his grandchild.  He is in no hurry.  No rush.  He is not worried about moving along, and yet, he is completely engaged.  He watches his grandchild play and move about with commitment and interest.  He finds joy in the watching.  In the waiting.  He savors this time.  Though there are other things to do today, he knows that this matters too.  This time is valuable, even though it might not appear that way to the naked eye.

As I shared on Wednesday (and heard a resounding “YES!” from you), I find that it is so easy to become disinterested and frustrated with the state of affairs in my relationship with Herb.  I see things I don’t like; maybe things that worry me.  And I want change now.  When I moan and complain about what we are or what we are not, Herb often reminds me to consider one important thing: context.  So, when I say, “We don’t have sex as often as So-And-So, what is wrong with us???”, he gently reminds me that he is an entrepreneur that comes home tired and that I live with a great deal of physical pain that often puts me in bed by 9 PM.  And not in bed in a sexy sort of way.  More like a comatose, fleece-clad sort of way.

Context.  Reality.  Breath.

Patience.

I want to sit back and enjoy my marriage the way it is today.  I want to give it a break for not being all I hoped it would be.  I want to appreciate what is, and let it be what it needs to be (or even, just is) today.  It will be so interesting to see what it grows into; what it becomes.  If I (or any of us, really) leave now, it would certainly put an end to the irritating process of waiting; the pain of living in a marriage that sometimes feels incongruent with who I am and what I want.   And I would completely walk away from everything that my marriage would be after this season.

Sitting on the park bench, watching my young marriage leap and stumble is so hard sometimes.  I watch as it skins its knees and drinks juice boxes (okay, boxed wine).  It spends too much time on the merry-go-round and rarely tries out the swings.  Oh, it can be so frustrating to watch.  I just want to charge through the sandy playground, grab that little rascal of a marriage by its ear and drag it over to the other toys.  Make it grow up faster.  Do different things.  Do what I want it to do.  But if I did that, it would not become what it really is.  It would be sort of skewed and tainted with my harsh words and expectations.    And so I wait. With hands folded neatly in my lap.  And I watch.  I wait.  I strive to be patient.

What is it like for you to be patient with your marriage as it grows and changes over time?

(If you see anything here that you like, disagreed with, or related to, leave a comment!  I would love to hear your voice!)