Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it does not argue about kitchen cabinet organization, or how to load the dishwasher “correctly”. It is not proud, it does not grumble about cleaning hair out of the shower drain or throwing out a full carton of expired Almond milk because someone declared that they were going to start making “smoothies for breakfast” and then forgot about it.
Love is patient. It’s about being patient. The Bible doesn’t really dig into that, it just assumes that you will know how to be patient with someone you love, and you won’t get all pissy just because they forgot to clean the lint trap out of the dryer.
The lint trap is a hot button issue in our house. Really, the dryer in general is pretty controversial. I won’t get into the politics of “when you should clean out the lint trap” (EVERY. TIME.) or “how many towels you should cram in there before you’re going to break the dryer”, because I know that not everyone agrees with me, and because I’VE never broken a dryer, so I wouldn’t know the answer to that.
Someonewould tell you that it’s okayto stuff twenty towels in there because “they have to get clean”and because “I don’t want to do six loads of towels”.
But, again, we’re not going to get into that.
Today we’re going to get into something that everyonecould probably stand to work on in their personal relationships:
Making sure that when someone tells you “I want to leave at a certain time”that you are, in fact, prepared to leave at that certain time. Up and at ‘em. Not twenty minutes later. Not forty minutes later. THAT CERTAIN TIME.
And also, patience. We could all stand to work a little bit on our patience. Myself included.
I don’t always like to get into the “heavy” stuff here, the “hard” stuff. You guys aren’t here for a “woe is me” saga – but today, just for today, just for this post, let’s talk about something a little more personal.
You guys. I didn’t cook the potatoes long enough.
No, that’s not a euphemism. I sliced up some potatoes (or I guess, technically I “cubed” them – does that matter? I don’t know.) popped them in a skillet, and… well, I didn’t cook them long enough.
But I didn’t know I didn’t cook them long enough. You see, I don’t cook all that often (clearly), so I’m still learning, and I read the directions on the recipe and they said “cook for eight minutes over Medium heat” – so I did that. I followed the directions. (It also said “or until golden”, but these were yellow potatoes so it’s kind of hard to tell when they’re “golden” versus when they’re just… you know, darker yellow, because they’re coated with olive oil.) So I didthat – I followed the directions, eight minutes. And then I took them out and set them aside and –
And they tasted like eating a raw potato. Like if I had just cubed up a potato, never ever put it into a skillet – and just took a bite out of it, as if it was an apple or a pear.
I know what you’re thinking – this is SO not that big of a deal. So you undercooked some potatoes. WOW. What a catastrophe. The world is ending. Are you okay?
I cried. Real tears. Because my potatoes sucked and they were supposed to play a huge role in our dinner that night (we were making this ‘potato and steak’ skillet thing) and HOW HARD IS IT TO COOK POTATOES? I am thirty years old – how have I not acquired such a life skill yet? I can manage territory sales for part of a fortune 500 company, but I can’t cook a couple of potatoes?
“It’s okay.”Kyle said, because he’s nice. Of coursehe was nice to me about it. What’s he supposed to say – ‘what the hell? These potatoes suck’? I was already an adult woman crying over a skillet. How much worse could it get?
In hindsight, of course, I think we can all see that this wasn’t really about the potatoes. (It was a little bit about the potatoes.) While I won’t get into the nitty gritty details – it’s safe to say that I’m stressed. I’ve been snapping at people all week, including Kyle – and God love him, he’s had enough grace to stay calm and not pick a fight with me over something completely stupid like the dryer.
In times of overwhelm, it’s important not only to have patience with yourself, but to be patient within that moment. Have enough grace to take it day by day, moment by moment, and stop worrying about “that thing coming up”. Be the kind of woman who shows up for her life, who understands that she was made for more, and who is proud to be herself. Enjoy your life – laugh about the potatoes, don’t cry over the skillet.