The back end of my car dangled over the mountain ledge. I stared in shock at nothin’ but blue sky through my windshield. What just happened? Oh. Yeah. Impatience just happened. Where there’s a will, there’s an idiot …
Instead of turning right on the narrow gravel mountain road – which would’ve taken me an additional five minutes to get where I was going – I tried left-turning a shortcut. I cut short all right; too short. My back tires started sliding right off the ledge. It felt like a tractor beam pulling my car backward, even as I pressed harder on the accelerator to urge it forward.
The skidding car suddenly stopped, teetering on its back axle like a crazed seesaw. I realized, with nauseating clarity, that if it slid one more foot, the car would flip and I would be … um, not feeling too swell.
Ack! Scarcely breathing, I grabbed my cell phone. No service in the mountains. I laid on my horn. Nobody nearby to hear. So I was on my own. Well, me and Papa God, whom I bombarded with a steady stream of rhino-in-the-road emergency prayer tweets.
Amazingly, the car stayed put. In my mind’s eye, I could see the angel back there bracing himself, one hand gripping the mountain and the other my back bumper, keeping me from catapulting over.
But how was I to get out? I couldn’t open the driver’s door against gravity with the car’s front end elevated like this. I tried: it was like pushing a boulder uphill.
If I scooted over to the passenger door, the weight shift might upset the fragile balance of the unstable car and over I’d go.
A still, small voice broke through my panic: “Try the door again. I’ll help you.”
So in excruciatingly slow mo, I unbuckled my seat belt, twisted around to place both feet against the door, and shoved with all my might. It felt like a thousand pounds. But it did open the tiniest smidge. After many more tries, I was finally able to shimmy through the narrow opening and drop to the ground.
Be still, my pounding heart.
All because I wasn’t patient enough to spare an extra five minutes. Five minutes. My impatience almost made me a headline.
The Trigger
Impatience is a very common mom-trigger. Not being able to have something you want or need now. Waiting notoriously unleashes your inner ogre; a spiraling temper often elicits impetuous and poor decisions. “It’s smart to be patient, but it’s stupid to lose your temper” (Proverbs 14:29 CEV).
And mom-life is filled with waiting … on dillydallying chirren (as my granny called us young ‘uns); distracted spouses; meandering drivers; careless clerks; responses that take for-ev-er; nerve-wracking doctor reports; and oh, so much more. What mother can deny the twitching impatience churning in her gut while Junior painstaking learns to tie his shoes?
It’s no secret that waiting requires patience we often don’t have. It feels like perpetual pregnancy – anticipating a baby that’s never delivered. We unwittingly adopt the testy disposition of a third-trimester preggers gal. Not pretty. Not nice.
Finding Joy
But listen to what the Bible has to say about delayed gratification: “Waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother … The longer we wait … the more joyful our expectancy” (Romans 8:24-25 MSG).
Joyful? How on earth can we be joyful when we’re languishing in wait purgatory? After all, impatience is womankind’s archenemy. Like Batman’s Riddler or Superman’s Lex Luthor, impatience seems to plot our demise, stalk us, then blindside us.
And worst of all, impatience makes us moms lose sight that God’s best gift is our children. “Don’t you see that children are God’s best gift?” (Psalm 127:3 MSG).
Whether they feel like a gift or not (and on any given day that changes), waiting for/on/with kids is an unavoidable part of life, and the Bible says we don’t have to be unraveled by it.
However can we not? Well, by taking cues from the most patient parent in the world – the heavenly Father who deals with dillydallying chirren every single day (that would be you and me, sister). “The Lord is merciful! He is kind and patient, and his love never fails.” (Psalm 103:8 CEV).
Cues from the Father
Here are three simple and practical ways I’ve found to draw from God’s deep reservoir of patience when my own pathetic puddle has dried up:
- Breathe. Stop and take three deep, cleansing breaths. With each exhale, repeat, “Take this, Lord.” Then let Him have it. Resist the impulse to wrestle it back.
- Go ahead, take it hard. Feel hard, vent hard then trust hard. If our God is truly sovereign, then everything happens for a reason. You probably won’t like the friction of your jagged edges being sanded down, but remember that you’re a work in progress. When your youngest tracks doggy doo all over the beige carpet, no use denying your frustration; it’s real. It’s okay to feel passionately; we’re created in the image of a passionate Creator. But don’t allow your feelings to take you over and dictate your behavior. Anger is not the boss of you.
- Protect precious relationships. Don’t allow your impatience to fuel an out-of-control reaction that might cause irreparable damage to relationships you treasure. The most valuable things in your life aren’t things: they’re people. Cherish them. Treat them with respect. Despite their snotty noses.
When impatience threatens to drive us into stupid mode – or off the edge of a mountain – the Lord’s patience is our most powerful defense, and He’s got plenty stockpiled and ready to share.
“We wait in hope for the Lord; He is our help and our shield” (Psalm 33:20 NIV).
Some roads are paved with good intentions; many roads are paved with flat, indecisive squirrels who’ve second-guessed themselves to death. You and I don’t have to be roadkill too, girlfriend. It’s our choice how we respond to each trying situation.
God offers His shield of protection from impatience, indecision, and irritability. He replaces them with self-control, kindness, and joy. Even when doggy doo smears the sole and frustration smears the soul.
*Adapted from Debora’s book, Too Blessed to be Stressed for Moms.
