I used to think I was patient. I used to think that I didn’t mind waiting for things. I used to be fairly scathing of our instant society, thinking how ridiculous it was to need instant answers, instant access, instant replies, instant deliveries… You get the picture.

But the last few months have shown me just how impatient I am. I have waited for a work contract to come to an end. I have waited for replies to emails. I have waited for people to phone back. I have waited for buses, trains and planes. I have waited for new yarn to arrive in the post. I have waited for building work to start on my house. I am still waiting for it to finish.

All this waiting has shown me that not only am I not as patient as I thought I was, but also that I like to be in control. My times of waiting are generally times when I can’t actually do anything to move the situation forward.

I can’t make the days and weeks go faster to make my contract come to an end sooner. I can’t speed the bus through traffic to make it reach my stop when I want it to get there. I can’t clear my builder’s schedule to make him start work at an earlier date. Nor can I do (or even assist with) the building work to complete it more quickly. And some things just can’t be hurried. It’s no good painting straight on to wet plaster (so I’m told).

So I’m learning, yet again, to be patient. To not stress when things don’t happen as quickly as I think they should. To allow things to unfold in their own time. To wait without grumbling or complaining about the waiting. And generally, the times that things happen are the times they are meant to happen.

The ending of my old job dovetailed perfectly with the beginning of my new job, something which wouldn’t have happened if my old contact had ended sooner. The work on my house is slow going, but it’s being done properly.

They say the best things come to those who wait. I think that, just possibly, they might be right.

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