Time Is Passing Differently Now

I don't know about you, but for me in my life over the past couple of years, the mathematical value of time has changed. I'm sure nearly every adult can relate. In fact, I'm sure they can because I think I've heard just about every adult on the planet say at one time or another, "Whoa! Where did this past week go? Time has flown!" Or who hasn't heard the overused speech so many seasoned moms tell to the new ones: "Enjoy the time when they're little because they grow up so fast."

More what I'm getting at is this weird phenomenon I've noticed in my life of increased patience. I think it started when my oldest son, Joey, was learning how to eat solid foods. Like every decent new mom, I was over-the-top excited to begin feeding him rice cereal. And despite what others told me about the fact that babies need practice when it comes to swallowing food from a spoon, I didn't really believe it. Or think about how much practice that meant.

Oh, it took practice. Like six months of practice.

And you can imagine all the while I'm getting pretty impatient and borderline concerned that my son might be developmentally challenged. But it didn't stop there. It took months and months for him to do all sorts of things with ease, like drink from a sippy cup, walk, run, say words, use a fork, manipulate a toy -- you name it, and it probably took at least six months apiece to master.

This was a handy lesson for me to learn with the advent of my new daughter, who was born this past December. As the weeks have worn into months and I'm still struggling with teaching her how to sleep through the night on her own, I reason with myself saying, "Oh, it's only a season. It'll be over in a few months."

Wait. MONTHS? Where did this crazy kind of patience come from? I was the type of kid who used to think I would die from starvation on a car trip if we didn't find a restaurant within the next five miles. I was the high schooler who thought the amount of time between fifth and eighth period was just about the longest stretch of time known to man. I was the college kid who thought semesters would never end. And I was the wife who thought a garden was not worth the wait because it took all summer to grow.

I'd like to attribute this increased patience to my awesome growth in character, but I think I know better. Yes,  these extra-long waiting periods are forcing me to understand what true patience really is, but I believe it's because God has been the one endowing me with this newfound skill, sneakily giving me doses of it like a mom hides vegetables in her kids' meatballs.

Nothing has required more patience than childrearing in my life to date, and I have come to understand that it is God's way of tutoring me about His economy of time: The amount and sequence time takes are not nearly as imperative as the byproduct it yields. And the byproduct, whatever that may be, has always been so worth it!