While growing up, Crystal’s mom often spoke fondly about the many bits of wisdom her dad had divulged. It was her favorite part of growing up. Being given the gift of deeper knowledge, pondering, and contemplation. Those quotes, thoughts, and inspirations stayed with her mother. Often, her mother found herself sharing these same teachings to her. Crystal was a wise little girl. Possibly because of her mother. She made her mother proud because of the way she looked at the world, with that deeper thought, endearing and mindful. However, Crystal was the impatient type.
It was a sunny afternoon. Her mother had picked her up from school. While they were driving home, Crystal began complaining to her mother about her day at school. Apparently, the teacher handed out a math worksheet that afternoon, and while explaining it, Crystal was trying to do the assignment. Her teacher got upset and sent her to the office. “I’m sorry that happened sweetie, but you know you have to listen to your teacher. Right?’
“Yes but, I already knew how to do it mommy.”
“And maybe you did but honey…” Her mother paused for a moment when Crystal’s head dropped. She took a breath and then with an empathetic voice said,
“Honey you have to slow down. You can’t be rushing into things.”
“Because honey…..Patience is a virtue.”
Crystal sat for a moment and then asked, “Mommy what does virtue mean?”
“It means it’s a good skill to have.”
Crystal looked outside the car window pondering this idea. After a few moments she looked over at her mom and said “I love you mommy.”
Her mother smiled back, and while brushing Crystal’s hair out of her face said, “I love you too sweet pea.”
3 Months Later:
It was 5:30 pm and everyone was at the dinner table settled for dinner. Crystal’s father had tried a new recipe, in attempts to recreate a favorite dish from the Thai place three blocks away. This first attempt failed terribly. Crystal tried eating it, but it just wasn’t working out. Her little brother Donnie was also having trouble eating this dish. While Mom, Dad, Sandy, and Dean ate their food, Donnie asked, “Daddy can I have a peanut butter jelly?
“I’ll make you one if it’s OK with Mom…Can I?” Crystal said.
Mom and dad looked at each other and nodded in Okay. As long as it meant not making it themselves, and weren’t giving them special treatment, it would be fine.
“Sure sweetie.” Mom replied.
“Can I have one too mom?”
“Of course. You’re making them.”
Crystal got up and began preparing a sandwich for Donnie. “Here Donnie, if you go wash your hands you can help me make yours.”
“OK!” Donnie rushed down the hallway to wash his hands in the bathroom.
“That was good example setting crystal. Thank you.” Mom said.
Donnie ran back in and dad asked him, “K. buddy let me smell your hands.” Dad reached for his hands to smell a hint of soap, and nodded in clearance. “Good job buddy.”
“OK Donnie, are you ready? Here’s the peanut butter.” Crystal handed him the jar.
They began happily making the sandwiches together. This made her parents smile fondly watching as they created a happy memory together. Dean then started being cute at the table with Sandy, and her parents focus shifted to them. After a few minutes, Donnie was getting anxious to have his sandwich, and a silence fell over the kitchen. “Crystal I want my SANDWICH….please!”
“OK, OK Donnie hold on a sec. You have to remember…..Patience is a restroom.” Crystal said.
Mom, Dad, Sandy, and Dean fell silent with a what—did-she-just-say looks on their faces, then mom said… “Patience is a restroom…really?”
“What?” Crystal said with a sarcastic grin on her face.
Donnie, Mom, Dad, Sandy, and Dean busted out into laughter, and so did Crystal. This laughter, and distraction made Donnie forget about rushing her, and she finished up his sandwich. Crystal began making other silly jokes about patience. I suppose what made this moment so precious for Crystal and her family wasn’t just the funny moment they had together, but the meaningful aspect within it. A lesson her mom had often found herself teaching her children, had ingrained itself inside her fruitful mind. Whether it was or wasn’t plastered correctly. The thought, and concept was there. In that very moment, her mother’s heart melted knowing, and realizing that her eight year old daughter had been listening all these years.
By: Amanda Gordon ©4-9-15