“Impatience is ignorance of what is supposed to be happening in the present moment.”
– Steven Sadleir in The Awakening
Your daughter whines for help getting ready for school in the morning.
Your son grumbles and complains about his homework.
Your wife asks you a question about your day.
Your husband reminds you of a scheduling conflict.
Your kids argue when you ask them to do something – or to stop doing something!
You snap back at them, insidiously and all-too-frequently with an irritated, angry voice.
It’s not you – the you that you want to be. The you that you’re meant to be.
It’s the you that’s reacting to the stress of the day (traffic, work, unexpected challenges) and to the accumulated stress of your life (past conflicts, hurts, transgressions that you’re still clinging to).
Your snapping, of course, leads to more defensiveness on the part of your loved ones. Your kids counter-attack; your spouse withdraws.
You feel misunderstood, unappreciated, even isolated.
You snap ever more impatiently at your family, and the cycle continues.
Unconsciously. Mindlessly.
You are ignorant, unaware of what is supposed to be happening in the present moment.
Until you’re not.
Until you awaken and realize the precious gifts of life that surround you.
And you see the opportunity for giving and receiving compassion in each encounter.
Your daughter is frustrated; she needs your guidance.
Your son is overwhelmed; he needs your reassurance.
Your wife is interested; she wants to connect.
Your husband is concerned; he wants to contribute.
Your kids are constantly seeking autonomy, mastery, and control in their lives.
They need your understanding heart, your encouraging voice, and your firm limits.
And so you begin again, with a single step, to make more conscious choices.
Perfectly imperfect, you move forward in faith.
Believing that you can be a better parent (and husband or wife).
Believing that you ARE a better parent (and husband or wife).
Instead of reacting impatiently to the stressful moment, you respond mindfully.
You pay attention to the immediate thoughts and feelings racing through your mind.
But you are not controlled by them. You let them gently pass by.
You take a quiet, cleansing breath, and ask yourself one question.
“What Would Love Do?”
You listen to the answer.
And you reply to your child or spouse – not with impatient irritation,
but with compassion, wisdom, and healthy dose of humor.
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