Billy was only five years old and the hardest thing about life for him was patience. He had none. Especially when it came to Christmas and that great big box under the tree that had his name on it.
He tried shaking it when his mother was making the brownies, and even kicked it a few times to see if he could hear a puppy inside. He knew it was something incredible, because his father had told him that Santa Claus had dropped it off early…you know how busy he gets on Christmas Eve.
But it was driving him crazy to find out what was on the inside of the big red and green box with the outsized bow and his name written in even bigger letters: B-I-L-L-Y.
it was all he could think about as he fell asleep, because he knew there was something wonderful inside there, and he even thought of running downstairs in the middle of the night and then telling his mom and dad that a burglar must have broken in and opened his gift from Santa Claus…but even at five years old he knew they would never believe him.
So he waited and waited and waited for Christmas to come.
Julie-Ann was a little older. She was eighty-seven, and the hardest thing about life for her was patience. Her life, it seemed has become, as of late, a never ending series of doctors’ appointments, procedures (she found that word amusing), referrals, more doctors, bedrest, new brightly colored medicines and all the other things that come with getting old.
She just wanted to get better, or at least not to feel the aches and pains that seemed to fill her days…a new one coming along every week or so. She was amused by the fact that she now had things hurt that sge never knew she had before.
And it was so hard to be patient. Especially since it had been almost ten years since John died, and on most days she just longed to be with him again and with Jesus and his Blessed Mother and Saint Therese, her favorite Saint.
The waiting was hardest when she went to bed. That’s when she felt most alone, her heart aching for that day when she could just go home to heaven.
It’s hard to be patient. For patience is only possible for one who hopes…in the wonder of the gift that’s still all wrapped up, and the promise of that day when we will see it all face to face, when this veil of tears and this agony of waiting will pass, and the Lord will take us hone.
And we wait with patience and with hope because we know it to be true:
That every desert will bloom,
And the steppes will rejoice.
That he will strengthen the hands of the feeble,
and make firm the knees that are weak.
That he will bring peace to the hearts that are frightened
and open the eyes of the blind.
That the deaf will hear and the lame will leap like the stag,
That the tongue of the mute will sing with everlasting joy;
and sorrow or mourning will never be again.
And so we wait, with patience and hope.
Like the little boy and the old lady,
we wait in joyful hope,
for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ!
