Patience Is the Lesson

I’ve been thinking a lot about patience lately.

Not the kind of patience that means sitting back and doing nothing. But the kind that asks us to keep showing up, keep tending to what matters, and somehow trust that things are unfolding—even when we can’t see it yet.

Patience isn’t doing nothing.

You still water.
You still tend.
You still advocate.
You still show up.

You just stop trying to control exactly when the result is supposed to arrive.

This summer, my garden has taught me that lesson over and over again. Some things grew so quickly I could barely keep up with them. Others took their sweet time.

And then there were the green beans.

I planted them. Watered them. Watched the vines grow. Waited.

And waited.

Plenty of beautiful vines and leaves...but where were the beans?

And then, just days before leaving for vacation...

BEANS.

They arrived when they were ready. Not when I thought they should.

And maybe that's why this little garden lesson feels especially meaningful to me.

The truth is, patience—and letting go of control—hasn't always come easily to me.

As a middle child, I learned pretty early to take care of things myself. Somewhere along the way, I began to believe that if I did it myself, I wouldn't have to depend on anyone else—and I would know it was done correctly.

That worked for me for a very long time.

But now, at 64 years young, I'm realizing that perhaps I don't need to control everything.

And believe me, I am still a work in progress.

I'm learning there is a difference between taking action and trying to control the outcome.

I can do my part.
I can ask for help.
I can speak up.
I can tend to what needs tending.

And then...

I can allow.

That last part may be the hardest one for me.

But lately, life seems determined to give me plenty of opportunities to practice.

There have been moments when I've wondered when something I was working toward would finally begin to take shape. I've worried. I've questioned. I've wanted things to happen on my timeline.

And yet, when I did what I could, continued to show up, and loosened my grip just a little...things began to shift.

Maybe patience isn't about simply waiting for life to happen.

Maybe it's about continuing to nurture what we've planted without constantly digging it up to see if it's growing.

I often say,

“You don't pull on a flower to make it bloom.”

And perhaps I'm finally beginning to understand that on a deeper level.

We can't force healing.
We can't force growth.
We can't force timing.

We can create the right conditions. We can nurture. We can show up. We can ask for help. We can trust ourselves enough to know when action is needed—and trust life enough to know when it isn't.

And sometimes our job is simply to allow what is happening beneath the surface to unfold.

I'm learning.

At 64 years young.

And I hope I never stop.

Because apparently life will keep finding ways to teach us exactly what we need to learn.

Sometimes through relationships.

Sometimes through work.

Sometimes through healing.

And sometimes...

through a handful of green beans that finally decided to show up two days before vacation. 🫘

I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

🕉️🧡 find your joy 🧡🕉️