This morning I heard a sermon on Patience, one in a series on the Fruits Of the Spirit. It was a good sermon with good worship. Recently, when I’ve been asked by friends, “How can I pray for you?” I’ve responded with one word, patience. When a trusted, longtime friend and I made our yearly three-day retreat to a cabin in Manistee National Forest, Michigan last week, I realized an amount of anger festering inside of me. Coming from the question, “Why?” “Why must I deal with this new grief?” “This is not how I want my life to be.” Anger, that, when kept inside to ruminate upon, festers like an infection, harming me and those I love.

The pastor preaching on patience said that in describing the gift, we cannot use the lack of patience as a way of getting at its meaning. That which we call impatience simply uses the same word to describe patience’ absence. No, the opposite of patience is a lack of love, joy, and peace, other fruits of abiding with the Spirit of God. A description of patience is inseparable from the description of these other fruits of the Spirit. The absence of patience is the lack of love that is hatred, the lack of joy that is despair, the lack of peace that is violence to myself or others. Patience is a trust that the “Lord is my shepherd. I have all that I need.” Patience is trust. letting go of the need to control and the anger that is a result of not being able to control life. Yes, there is deep grief and loss underneath my anger. And yes, I have all that I need to express the anger out and let it go.

That is a lot to digest and practice. I thought of Temma when I was listening. I think that Temma has a small mountain of patience. When I look into her eyes, especially in the morning when I’m first awake and out of bed to greet her, she’s there, in her own bed, residing in the Spirit. It’s like looking into the eyes of raw patience. There is so much beauty there. These fruits of the Spirit reside in her as they do in me, waiting, dependent on me, on others in her life, on the Spirit to care and give her life voice and agency. “Hello, Temma.” “Hi, Sweetie.” I say, and she responds with a blink of the eye and a slight upturn of her mouth. Caring for and nurturing the Spirit is hard work, yes, and some days I wonder if it’s worth it. At times I need some rest and I’m grateful to be able to get away for a while. But, yes, she is worth it, I am worth it, we are worth it, this I’m sure of. Patience grows.