“Not difficult; merely tedious.” This was N’s description of his first preparatory algebra lesson last evening, on which he made a perfect score. J also scored well on his first 4th grade lesson. When I remember my little nursing babies, later my little boys drooling in the Johnny Jump-Up, I am astonished at how quickly the hours pile into days, the days into weeks, months, years.
We’ve come a long way together! We’ve discovered so much and built so much beauty, much of it on the couch or in the bed, and yet I can also say there is still much I wish I could have done, as well as much still left to do. Even in my condition, they still need their Mama. Paul knew, and I know, that it is best for me to be here, for their sake, a bit longer.
We like to tease in our house that Janson’s A Short History of Art would make short work of someone if thrown at them. And, as I have looked at the massive English books we will be traversing each year over the next years, enough as my husband says to give one a panic attack, I have thought about how, so much of our lives, the greatest thing we are learning is patience.
I think, when I began life, I had something of a hare mentality. But slowing down and settling into the tortoise role is the way of faith and endurance, taking each day and the trouble it has of its own, laying out future plans and schedules of this or that which honors God to fill a high school credit and broaden my sons as people, but knowing and resting that the Lord directs our ways.
This is true beyond mothering. This is true, moment-by-moment, navigating through chronic illness. This is true with our souls. So much of life and love comes best softly. The Italians sometimes say, “Chi va piano, va sano e va lontano.” He who goes slowly, goes safely and goes far. I am thankful to grow stronger again today through cultivating patience. Aren’t you? Love you all so dearly.
“Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.” ― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh