When is Patience a Good Thing

That Little Voice

I wonder about patience: when to have it and when to march on, not waiting for good sense to rule.

I’ve never been particularly good at choosing the correct timing for either one, but I do believe there are times for both ways to approach decision making.

For instance, if you are faced with escaping a house fire, waiting patiently for fire trucks may not be the better option before racing out the nearest exit.

On the other hand, if you are verbally attacked with some absurd accusation, taking a moment to breath, pulling on some inner strength you have never accessed before, and patiently listening, may allow you to avoid a fist fight that will damage the shape of your nose or put you behind bars.

I’ve never been in a fist fight or any physical altercation, if you don’t count the boxing matches my sister and I had at the ages of nine and ten in the basement of our home. But, I have been known to quickly retort to some rude comment with a sarcastic rebuttal, unworthy of my usual kind manner.

Thus my confusion about when to wait before acting. I’ve learned it takes a great deal of effort to keep myself still when faced with decisions. I want to decide quickly and move on to the next decision to be made, which has led me to some uncomfortable outcomes.

When I accepted the gift of a puppy, one that had been stolen, and the police came to my door to reclaim it, I realized perhaps I had not given this acquisition careful thought. Who wouldn’t be eager to take a future roommate from a stranger? It would have been beneficial if I had first stopped to ask why I was being offered this adorable canine. I didn’t think about anything but how it would feel to have this new friend-to-be cuddled up next to me.

In my youth I was job hunting and decided to hold workshops on transitions. This venture was well-intended, but not necessarily well thought out. I assumed I knew a great deal about changes, transitioning from one place to another, since I had moved a lot, had lived is various towns, and experienced multiple ups and downs. A bit of patience before this rashly made endeavor may have offered me insight that I was not trained, equipped or adept at advising anyone about anything.

Now, in my advancing years, the amount of patience I practice is considered amazing. I’ve realized I can’t run quickly, if at all, my knees won’t allow me to duck, my mind reacts slowly, if at all, and I can’t hear what is going on so I don’t know a decision is needed.

Some might call this laziness, or the effects of aging. I choose to call it patience.