“Patience is a bitter plant, but its fruit is sweet.” – Chinese Proverb
I’m not friends with March. As a month, it’s long and slow. It has no holidays, in the U.S. at least. It feels like a placeholder month to me. March is the month in which I’m more likely to be irritated that my eight-year-old daughter, Miss O, has used my Tupperware for slime, my four-year-old son, Mr. D, only brushes the outside of his teeth, and Cooper the dog thinks that keep away is a fun game.
March wreaks havoc with my already-prevalent tendency towards impatience. It feels like the month that the year is most pregnant. Something great is about to burst onto the scene but for now, it’s nothing we can see or hold.
So, yesterday, on my third day of my penance, also known as March, that I made waffles with jam inside. Miss O said, “We are so lucky. And it’s not just me that’s lucky, but our whole family.”
Dang. I’m being an ingrate. But as she said that, I also realized that what I’m pregnant with at this moment is hope. Yes, the laundry hasn’t been done, the dishwasher needs to be emptied, I haven’t started my taxes, and the yard looks like a mud pit interspersed with construction toys.
But I’m hopeful that some of the projects we started will get done. That some of the lessons we’ve been learning will stick. And that I will learn to be patient while the Higher Power works hand in hand with sunshine to make it happen.
For all of my childhood, one of our biggest family celebrations was Easter. My mom would spend all of March making me a new Easter dress, measuring, sewing, trying it on, usually right up to the night before.
Maybe that’s one of the seeds of my impatience with March. Waiting for the resurrection. Whether or not that matches your theology, I think Spring brings the hope of better things to come. I just have to remember to be grateful. And also note that bird song, blooms, and better sunshine are worth waiting for.
(featured photo from Pexels)
Surprised By Joy 