“Impatience is stealing the joy from my life,” I told Scott as we sat in gridlock traffic in Santa Cruz a few weeks ago. It was an impossibly beautiful day. Rain had just washed the world clean and now the sun sparkled all over the place. Everything was in bloom as we headed into the mountains where redwoods rose higher than any other tree on earth. Problem was, we were moving at about five miles an hour. I had all the time in the world to admire the beauty beside the highway, but I was feeling agitated and annoyed.
“Everywhere I go I’ve had to wait recently,” I told Scott. “The line I’m in has Grandma counting her pennies, or the woman whose credit card won’t work, or the guy who decides he needs a round of lottery tickets he’s gonna fill out at the counter.”
“God is working on you my little get-er-done girl,” Scott said with a smile.
“I know that,” I answered, trying to convince myself that being stuck in traffic was a good thing. “Look at those rhododendrons. Have you ever seen them bloom like that before?” I even had time to count the blossoms because our car came to a complete standstill. I did this grudgingly thinking I wanted to get out and weed under the highway’s hedges as we waited.
Later we came upon the road problem. An SUV had rolled. Family gear was strung all over the highway. A small child, no more than three or four years old, lay unmoving on a stretcher. Other accident victims were being attended to, but not the child.
“Impatience probably caused that wreck,” said Scott. “The roads are slick from the rain, but people don’t want to slow down.” For years Scott was an Army helicopter pilot. He understands safety and has often explained to me how important it is to go at things patiently.
I could not take my eyes off the little one on that lonely stretcher. We had a son that size at home.
We skirted the scene of the accident and soon an ambulance screamed up behind us.
Please let that be the child alive and on his or her way to the hospital, I prayed. But just as the ambulance passed us, the lights switched off and the siren went silent.
“That’s not good,” said Scott. “Guess they don’t need to get that patient to the hospital any longer.”
The ambulance merged into traffic and drove the speed limit along with everyone else. There was a somber feel on the road.
I stared out the window at the rhododendrons with new appreciation. My children were alive.
As I contemplated this happening, I realized that my impatience was tied to pride. Accidents are humbling, especially when people die. I am grateful to God that this was not my accident. God humbled me as a bystander.
Now when I feel impatient, I picture that child on a stretcher. I breathe in and out practicing the gratefulness of life. When a person is feeling grateful it is nearly impossible to harbor impatience. Pride cannot hide in a thankful heart.
I have also realized while writing this blog that patient (as in sweetly waiting) and patient (as in a sick person) are spelled the same. Interesting don’t you think? Thankfully, Jesus is patient with me the patient.