Some days finding patience for the daily things that ask me to have it doesn't happen.
Some days, no longer able to kindly facilitate "the search" for what is needed before we can leave the house, I head for the car. Sit there and try to avoid the place where I can stew in what isn't working (instead of what is), in the unnecessary panic of We are running late, again! Thirty seconds, five minutes. I am never sure how long I will sit, how long it will take before we can be on our way.
Some days I say, "I need you to get it together," and though my voice is headed up the stairs or towards the child finding a challenge, I am talking to myself.
But some days, more and more I'm grateful to say, I allow us the time we need because that is what is necessary first. Time. Time, a calm voice, maybe a smile, acknowledgment that a struggle, though it can often feel inconvenient to the people not living the struggle, is a valid feeling, and can't be rushed away without offering everyone involved more hardship.
Today, in a conversation about something one of us struggles with quite a bit, I offered again the assurance that no matter how long it takes, we aren't going to try to force either of them to be uncomfortable or suffer just because it would be easier for us grown ups if things were suppressed, gotten over, or done our way.
My lap climbed into, a head nestled towards my ear, "Thanks, because if you did, well, you'd be saying you just didn't have time for me."
My soul heard this deeply, this need we all have spoken directly from theirs.
Yes, even when my struggles meet your struggles, which they will continue to do here and there,
even when we're late again,
even when I am sitting in the car trying to breathe in what I wish could be easier,
we have time.
Time for struggles to work themselves out, and time for the ones that don't.
We have time for you.