There’s a large hole in the window screen just over our kitchen sink. Inside it, two tiny wrens are building their nest, their secret. All day, they pop in and out of that hole, one pinching a twig in its beak, another grasping an old leaf. Sometimes they pause on the branches of the nearby tree and sing a song. Other times they simply gather new pieces and begin the process over again.
Patience can be such a funny lesson.
As children, we learn to practice patience externally. Wait for dessert. Wait until I’m finished talking. Wait until we get there. As an adult, patience becomes a matter of the heart. Wait for that opportunity. Wait for that person. Wait for that dream. Wait for God. Like the birds in my window, our hands and bodies remain busy with rote while internally we continue waiting for what’s yet to come. As the circumstances change, so does the waiting. Somewhere in this process, I am learning to be patient.