Mom's code for, "Can't talk now, the kids are in the room." I was raised by a blind mother. Wait, reverse that, I was raised by a mother ... who was blind. She taught me to look at life through the eyes of faith.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Denying Natural Attitude
My son has been sick since Sunday. He came down with this cold that's going around and like his father developed a fever. His body (which recently surpassed mine in height) was down for the count. And so the demands began. It's day 4 and to be honest I was done at day 1. No joke folks he would call me to come get his water which was on a table right next to him.
I feel I must pre-empt this next statement by saying don't pray for me but I found myself wondering if patience is genetic or enviornmental. Again, though my patience well seems dry I am not asking for any. As you all probably know the only way to develop patience is to be put in situations where patience is needed so please do not pray for it for me.
Three dozen plus (more than half but not quite a whole dozen) years ago I was born into a family with parents who were patient with people. They volunteered with mentally disabled adults which takes gentleness and patience. I followed in their footsteps by working with disabled adults. I would've volunteered but hey a girl's gotta eat. Mom and I even had clients in common. So it would appear my patience was genetic or was it?
I was also on the receiving end of patience very early on. My cleft lip and pallet made it impossible for me to suck a bottle. My mom had to squeeze every ounce into me. Before she could even do that, she had to boil bottles down to get them pliable. That of course was done ahead of time. Once she got them pliable they stayed that way through normal use and washings. It took and hour and a half for mom to give me one 8 oz. bottle. Though she never said she minded I think she was glad when I could eat solid food. I also had a great role-model for patience: my Aunt Nellie. Don't check my family tree, she's not there. It was simply a term of endearment and respect for a friend of my mom. Aunt Nellie had a foster home for special needs children. She had 4 biological children of her own and while we were outside jumping on the trampoline she was inside feeding no fewer than 4 children in high chairs. I didn't realize it then but knowing her meant knowing patience personified.
So is patience part of my genetic code or something I saw and emulated? Realizing that my recent impatience with my son's illness stems from my own selfishness I'd have to say it's DNA. I don't mean that long scientific word that they had to reduce to initials because we couldn't pronounce it. I'm talking about Denying Natural Attitude. It is only natural to be self absorbed every now and then, to grumble about disturbances to your routine. Or at least it is for me.
Mom taught me alot and gave me alot. The least I can do is take good care of her grandson without grumbling and with plenty of patience.
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Another thought-provoking post. Good work.
ReplyDeleteLisa, you always give me some great stuff to chew on. That DNA thought is priceless!
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