Blessed are those who wait.
The globe whistles past them.
The sharpest bit of the world
doesn't deter their gaze
from the promised direction.
--Ulla Hahn
Time, space, and patience are all inter-related. "Infinite patience brings immediate effects." I'm learning more and more that when I'm patient and loving, time seems to slow down. And what is mine to do will get done in this space of physical existence.
I grabbed the dictionary to look up the word patient: "Bearing pains or trials calmly or without complaint; steadfast despite opposition, difficulty, or adversity."
Years ago, I often asked God to give me patience! My impatience was a sure sign I didn't have any. Then a friend heard me and commented, never pray for patience. For it implies that you need to practice patience and many opportunities will be given to learn patience. It's better to give thanks daily that you already have patience. I took that advice to heart...life is trying enough without putting in an order to receive more patience.
Over
the past years, we've enjoyed watching three generations of sandhill cranes neighbors raise their colts and then take to the sky. A joyful sight to watch the family fly in formation after four or five months of patience, waiting for the young to grow their wings.
These
long-legged, stately birds are a remnant of prehistoric times. Intense
amber-orange glowing eyes, long sharp beak, a red heart-shaped mask.
Often they sidle me as I sweep the front walk with my long handled
broom. When I happen to look up, I'm startled. "Oh, there you are." I tried something different this week, broke the usual morning routine to enjoy the fresh air before it got too hot. The little prayer garden was long neglected and needed some tender loving care. Rooting around in the soil in the shade of the palms was both healing and renewing. Sinking your fingers into Mother Earth is my way of staying in the now. Weeding, watering, planting, transitioning the old and bringing in the new to create a little patch of beauty. A quick trip to the garden center added a finishing touch. Eight bushy pentas in star-clusters of white or pink. Tired old planters were refreshed with new life. Sweat poured off my brow as I returned to the house to admire the view from the living room window.
These
long-legged, stately birds are a remnant of prehistoric times. Intense
amber-orange glowing eyes, long sharp beak, a red heart-shaped mask.
Often they sidle me as I sweep the front walk with my long handled
broom. When I happen to look up, I'm startled. "Oh, there you are." What happened next was a big test of patience. The newly restored garden was being uprooted by the young crane. Pecking up and down, his sharp bill hammered freshly potted pentas by the bird bath.
Trying not to huff, I hurried out and put in the correction, packing the flowers back down in the planter. The cranes are usually calm and deliberate, drinking from the bird bath or pecking in the grass for bugs or seed. The incident was forgotten... until on a mail run that afternoon. What a shock! Pink pentas were strewn on the lawn, gasping in the hot sun. Thankfully, still intact, I quickly moved the bunch to a safer place far from the beak of a pesty gardener.
I wondered why the pentas? His behavior resulted in a search on-line. The name penta comes from the word pente which means a succession of five, and these plants have clusters of five-petaled flowers and are often named star flower.
Peace and love,
Rae Karen
Artwork: (Julia Margaret Cameron, Google Art Project)
