It's the first of October. A lot of local crops here are far behind normal ripening and dry down schedule. We want to attack while the weather is still conveniently pleasant. We want to begin harvest, but the crops say wait. In the spring, we are anxious to put seed into soil, but the soil temperature says wait.
Patience.
We want to see results now. The project has been underway for months. You've been working towards the goal, moving and pushing, but the results are slow in coming or not showing at all.
Patience.
A reminder for me to be patient came last week during a little trip with a friend to see Michigan's Porcupine Mountains and enjoy a few of the waterfalls that make our state's northern peninsula a treasure. My friend brought along a friend to help keep the cost down. Both my friend and her friend rank me in age by 15-20 years. Their gait was slower—much slower—than mine, which in all truthfulness, has gotten slower.
Patience.
We didn't get to see as many waterfalls and breath-taking sights as planned because the ones we did see were a slow process and took longer than expected. I had to focus on the moment. It made me really drink in the scenery and experience on our way to the real sights of the destination. The slow pace meant we didn't beat the rain out of the woods. Wet and cold, we drove to the cabin to dry off and warm up with hot cider. Instead of seeing more of the mountains we played board games and cards for the evening.
Patience.
Our little trip reminded me that in all truthfulness, it's the journey that is the important part, and not so much the destination. I had to bring down my pace and bump up the patience. We just weren't going to see it all. In doing so, it helped me recognize and celebrate the victory of a mile hike through the woods with a friend who challenged her prosthetic-legged 70-something self to see, do, and enjoy the outdoors like she used to. She did it differently than she used to, but she did it. That was her victory, her celebration. Without patience, I would have missed that party. And were it not for the pace, the tunnel of trees, the smell of pine and the distant noise of a waterfall would have had less time to ingrain in my brain. Hopefully, one day I will be rewarded with a vivid memory when I am unable to make the trip to waterfalls myself.
Patience can pay off.
I hope that when my pace slows even more, there is someone who will have patience with me and allow me to enjoy some of the things I used to enjoy, even though the pace may be slower.
Bev Berens is a freelance writer and FFA parent from Holland, Mich. She can be contacted at uphillfarm494@yahoo.com.