“Sis, do you know why I chose this long line to stand in when I only had two items to checkout with?” My dad questioned me. I certainly did not. Nor did I even notice the wait. I was with my dad and enjoying the outing without a care in the world.
He took that opportunity to tell me a story about himself when he was younger.
My folks were recently married and traveling the United States as evangelists, preaching from one church to the next on weekly assignments. They traveled in a 1984 Suburban and 35ft Allumalite Travel Trailer.
In need of gas, he pulled into the filling station. He went inside to pay with his patience as low as the fuel gauge had been.
Upon leaving, an older gentleman followed him to his truck and trailer. Without hesitation, the gentleman told my father, “Son. If you don’t get control of your impatience, it is going to kill you,”
Then he turned and left.
From that point on, my father would find the most extended lines to stand in so that he would be forced to wait. Patiently.
I was filling a gas can at the gas station several months ago. Eva was in school, but Charlotte was securely fastened in the backseat. Content and sleeping. Unbeknownst to me, the card reader was not working on the pump I had just used to fill the gas can. Where to most, it would be no big deal. But with small children, especially a two-month-old, at the time, it is anything but “no big deal.” Calmly, I gathered my keys, purse, and car seat carrier so that I could go inside to pay.
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Coming around the last bend in the road, as I headed for home, I was stopped by two police officers that had the road blocked off.
This was odd since not much action takes place down our quiet backroad. They told me there had been a serious accident, and a wrecker and an ambulance were in the middle of the road. I would need to reroute for home.
Now, I am not saying that the car in the wreck would have been me if I had not been held up at the gas station by a non-operative card reader. But I will say the timing was perfect, and the road was scarce. It gave me pause to think.
Because my father chose to learn the art of patience, I started leaps ahead of where I could have found myself. Although patience is not entirely natural for me, I do not fly off the handle when things go array. I am straightforward and level-headed. In fact, I usually find most of it quite comical.
My father led by example that frustration was not the answer. God sets a guard around his own.
I asked a friend of mine who considered getting her children ready for Sunday morning service an Olympic event, which one was more patient while raising their four kids, her or her husband. She said, “My husband and I complimented one another. In the areas where I lacked, he was strong, and where he was less than patient, I was his compliment.”
I never met that older man who took the time to warn my father about his impatience. But I am reaping the benefits of his bold action.
The next time you find yourself impatient, instead of complaining, send a thank you to the Lord for protecting you from all the unknowns you will never know.
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“Now may the Lord direct your hearts into the Love of God and into the patience of God.” 1 Thessalonians 2:5
