Grandma Scher was the epitome of #patience. As though raising nine children through the depression wasn't enough, those same children, when grown, converged on her home every Sunday, their own children in tow, yet she smiled and hugged each and every one, knowing full well of the chaos to ensue.
Food preparation for such a brood was an act of patience as well. Soup often simmered all day on a back burner of the stove. Noodles for her famous chicken and noodles were made from scratch, using eggs from her chickens.
I can remember watching her slice the floured dough into strips that were then laid out all over her kitchen counters and table to dry. It was so time-consuming that I hopped from one leg to the next, thinking I would have given up in the blink of an eye. But the results were so delicious that I began to understand the slow and tedious process. Patience was not only a virtue, but could produce mouth-watering results as well.
Somewhere along the line, it seems that patience has ebbed from our lives for the sake of convenience. If something isn't instantaneous, we pout. We've been trained on fast-food, drive-ups, microwaves, single-serve coffee makers, computers, phones and other technology for speedy access to info, the flash of social media, and scheduled lives. This is what we wanted - convenience. But at what cost? Has it improved or cheapened the quality of our lives?
This #Thanksgiving, I find myself grateful for individuals who possess the patience of my grandmother: people who take time to do something well; people who mull over all the facts before making a decision; people who pause to think before they speak; and people who are willing to stop and listen. Maybe, if I can quit hopping from one foot to the next, I can learn to be one of these people, too. I sure hope so, but only if it doesn't take too long.