Patience Is A Virtue

pa·tience

  [pey-shuh ns]

noun

1.

the quality of being patient, as the bearing of provocation,annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, irritation, or the like.

2.

an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay: to have patience with a slow learner.

3.

quiet, steady perseverance; even-tempered care; diligence: to work with patience.

I may not be able to ribbon dance, do a cartwheel, or bedazzle a pair of jeans, but I can show patience.  When people are blocking me in the bread aisle at Target, I don't see it as a battle zone.  I simply wait as they make a crucial life decision: white or wheat.  When I ask my students if there are any questions and one of them raises their hand with a story I chose to listen because chances are I'm going to need him or her to erase my board at some point.  No body wants a disgruntled board eraser.  They leave streaks.  However today, I found myself feeling insecure about my personality's pride and joy: patience.  

• I realized that if I try to cook soup in a pot or in the microwave I never wait long enough for it to get past warm.  Yet, I don't complain about the fact I'm eating cold soup three bites in.  So, in fact, I didn't actually show annoyance or irritation. Frankly, I'm pleased my lip and tongue aren't singed and I'm still able to taste in case a dessert situation presents itself. 
• I blow-dry my hair in segments.  I get bored after a couple minutes, turn it off and do something else.  Usually it takes me about 5 spurts to get my hair 90% dry.  The remaining moisture is sucked out as I straighten it.  How can I be sure?  I hear a sizzle sizzle sizzle.  Although it takes me much longer because I'm not willing to do it in one sitting, I'd like to silver line it and say that I am in fact showing patience here.  I'm showing steady perseverance through the heat and loud noises. 
• I stopped at Target after the gym.  As I was going through the checkout the cashier was a curious cat.  My nail polish purchase sparked a conversation on how it's her "one girly allowance to self."  Although, I wasn't really sure what that meant I told her that I totally understood and I was the same way.  Somehow this lead into a conversation about how I hope I have little girls some day that can play with a barbie and bounce a ball.  I think I was trying to show her I was an athlete and not high maintenance, but it came off more like I was attempting to solicit a new friend.  She confronted me with delay, but instead of presenting her with an attitude, I found myself engaging her in a verbal exchange that felt more like a Dear Abby letter than casual conversation.

Yet, upon closer examination I realize I'm even more patient than I thought.  Talk about peacocking.  I fear my feathers are so ruffled I won't be able to comfortably rest in my bed tonight...