Balls Will Drop

Oh, Lord give me patience! How many times have you or I whispered or shouted those words? Friends have reminded me to be careful what I ask for, because, they insist, God puts us in patience-requiring situations when we pray that prayer. So . . . what then . . . don’t ask, don’t tell?

As the Wolverine says in Days of Future Past, "Patience isn't my strongest suit." Wanting to be patient and BEING patient are nowhere near each other on the emotional spectrum of my life. And I rather suspect your life as well. Not that there aren't patient people in this world. I envy them. But those that speak of needing patience aren't they. I think some people are born patient. I think, also, that patient parents produce patient progeny.


Love is patient, love is kind. 1 Cor. 13:4. To my mind, that suggests that if I truly loved, I would be patient. Piece of cake, right? Because that IS my goal, I just finished a Bible study on Becoming a Woman Who Loves. Once again, wanting and being are worlds away. It’s one thing to TALK about loving and quite another to FEEL it. And I’m not relying on love simply as an emotion, because I know that it is a choice to love. But only God can work that in me. I cannot drum it up, manufacture it, grit my teeth and will it.

Not that I haven’t tried.

I used to think that pride was the root of my impatience. I was in a hurry because what I had to do was more important than your endeavors. You slowed me down in your car, in the super market, on my way from point A to point B. I had unflattering things to say about you.

Therefore, if I could attain humility, I could be patient? If people weren't just so stupid? How can I fly with eagles when I’m surrounded by turkeys? Okay. So not so humble. Still working on that. Love and humility were the keys to my attaining a patient spirit. I dove into prayer and Bible study, but still I could only be patient for a little while. I worked at being patient, but mostly I was faking it. You know what I’m talking about. But it is a continual quest to be a better person, a journey that I am on until God calls me home. I’m trying to have patience with the process.  : D

A milestone on this journey was the recent discovery that it’s not so much my lack of love or humility that gives way to impatience. It’s perfectionism. Of course, I have insisted for years that I am not a perfectionist, that I simply pursue excellence. And that is part of the definition of perfection. But it was during my study of Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, that I discovered that I am in fact a perfectionist. Go figure. But being perfect? Without flaws, defects or shortcomings? Who can attain it? Well, I operated under the assumption that I could, and that everyone should. And, if we all applied ourselves, did our best to hold up our end of the deal, if nobody dropped the ball, everything would be just fine! When my Pastor warned me that no matter what I did, "balls would drop," everything in me screamed, “NO!”

Jack was right. Balls, indeed, dropped. Events went sideways, and I, and those with whom I worked, had to punt, adjust, make do. To my surprise, nobody died. Except me, inside, that is.

As long as I expect myself to be perfect, that is, I cannot make a mistake, then neither can anyone else. Hence the impatience. Big light bulb here. Big revelation. Enormous for me to say it, accept it, and choose to be free of it.

I live in a Senior community, which means 95% of the residents are over 55. Most are in their 60's and 70's, a dozen or so in their 80's, and a few in their 90's. Mistakes, mess ups, snafus, send a number of the them off the deep end. "What? The pool furniture's not back? Where will we sit? What will we do?" Chaos! Mayhem!

I must admit, part of this is my fault. I have overfunctioned as a board member for 3 years. Now that I'm saying "No," the residents are angry. I mean, really . . . who likes change? But for my sanity and my health, I must do this.

I wonder if the belief that no one (especially those “in charge”) can make mistakes, is a generational principle. My dad would be 93 if he were still alive, and he often said, “If you can’t do something right, don’t do it at all.” Whether or not it is generational, living by that standard is self-defeating and, in my opinion, unhealthy. Let me try, and let me fail. I'll learn from that.

Well, I love you, Dad, but I've given up perfectionism. It feels good to acknowledge that, while I always do my best, I CAN make mistakes. I give myself permission to mess up. You might be happy to know that I can now allow you the same latitude, my friends, my readers. Most of you probably never worried about it. But if you have suffered from the same inner demands of doing everything right, I want to give you hope that it can be different. Not all at once, but in stages, one step at a time. Sometimes two steps forward and one back. Nevertheless, progress happens. Peace is the prize.

It’s okay. Balls will drop. Because juggling takes Patience.