I don’t know if patience is a virtue, but it can be a balm.
Patience is often thought of as waiting for something to happen. Such as waiting for a kettle to boil, or waiting to feel better during sickness, or waiting for springtime, or waiting for the right person to come along to fall in love with.
Patience involves recognizing we are alive in a present moment, and that maybe the thing we are patiently awaiting will happen, if the kettle is on, or we are drinking lots of fluids and resting, or if global warming doesn’t shift the jet stream, or we are open to understanding other people in profound ways.
Patience is also understanding, in our bones, that something may not happen, but calmly persevering anyway.
While we are patient we may be surprised by something presenting itself in a completely unexpected way, at an unexpected time.
While we are patient we may recognize that we ourselves and the thing we were waiting for are subtly transformed, and brought into alignment.
Our illness isn’t gone but we can live with it, which brings new creativity.
An unexpectedly warm day in February brings early snowdrops, and happiness.
We have inexplicably become a person who can be loved, by loving ourselves just a bit more.
The kettle has boiled, and the tea is now ready.