Patience

Ah, patience, my old friend. I met that along with darkness, silence, pain, hurt, fear and the others. Patience. What do you think? 8 letters in a string, a word your mother has always told you? Patience is why I'm still intact. Think of anger as a pack of wolves, and patience is a wall. I feel like when the wolves hide in the bushes, I sometimes don't even realize they are there. The stags, deer taunt me, and before I know it, the wolves tear at the wall, clawing at it, willing the bricks to fall. 

You know why our mothers care so much about our patience? Because they know we will regret letting the wolves go to consume other people. The wolves lash out, mean words, physical actions, sudden outbursts of pure rage you never even knew you were capable of. The foundation of our patience is crucial. It feels like you're fighting yourself, but I feel like if God could bear with us, if he could give us patience, why can't we? 

I feel like his patience and forgiveness is greater than any other. God would turn the other cheek if you slap him, he took the whipping, the crown of thorns, he was on that cross for so long till he died, his wall of patience was that strong. Compared to him, what can we endure? To look at your murderer in the eye, not objecting or fighting back, but just being there, without cursing him even in your heart, just being willing to do as he pleases, and let. him. kill. you. THAT, is patience. I can't do that. Can you? 

I've regretted snapping at people so many times. Yet, patience is what we should strive for, to make our wall as tough as possible. Sooner or later it will fall, but the question is how easily. In the end it would feel good, you would be glad you kept it in. Making other people feel horrible sometimes makes yourself feel worse. Patience... If you own even a little bit of it, it would help you a lot more than you can without it, and even a little, can go a pretty long way. 

Ever felt this way? It's like a pack of wolves eating you up slowly from within. Their snarl creeps onto your face, and you force it into a smile. They claw at your heart, and you desperately cling on, grabbing it with all your might, nails piercing it, you feel the rapid pulse and hot, sticky blood streaming down your arm, you gasp, you try to hold it in, you hold your tongue, but the wolves tug hard. You cover your mouth, but it's too late. The wolves escape, and free at last, run off unstoppable into the midnight, taking it's howl with it. ~ME


Please email me at hopeforthestargazers@gmail.com, comment and share. 
Till next time, 
Victoria Lee