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I Found 7 Profound Reasons to Be Patient, and It Saved My Family

Consider hardships as blessings, rejoice at the opportunity to exercise your patience

I found patience at a crisis in my life… the blessing that greeted my nature – Olya Aman

Only three years ago I used to be so mild and gentle, so sweet and good-humored that earth seemed not my element. My cheerful, happy smile was always present for my beloved husband and baby, my firstborn child. Every minute lived in our home seemed delicious.

All vanished gradually like a breeze, leaving a sign of warmth in the frosty air. I decided to work from home on some company projects rather than going to the office every day. I was delighted to spend more time with my growing family, a second child being on his way.

1) Stay strong when marks of quietness and uneventfulness color your life.

Our third son was a piece of happy, unexpected news. I didn’t fully recover mentally from the merry sensation of being with my second baby, only a year at that time. In the beginning, straggling to be everywhere: keeping the kids nice and neat, the house cozy and welcoming, the food tasty and nourishing — I reduced my restful, sleeping hours to about four a day, comforting myself with thoughts about excellence and perfection of my life.

In three months I felt as if I was groping forward a few steps in my daily life and strolling backward with increasing speed. The little one cried almost every night with no obvious reason. I often lost my temper with my four-year-old, expecting him to be always handy and ready to help in any possible way with kids and with things around the house.

The growing family forced my husband to accept an offer of higher pay and longer absence from home, often being away on his business trips for weeks in a row. Left alone with kids I could not find energy enough to keep my old acquaintances and friends. I was busy and very lonely.

Patience — a lifelong spiritual practice. Do not let time rob you of your brightness, but let it add depth to your personality. Get skilled at pulling the ropes and handling the ribbons of your emotional strength, so you can control your life with all its waiting, watching, and knowing time.

2) Fight snappy conduct that is stealing out with noiseless distracting footsteps.

I kept reproaching myself for lack of attention to my husband and kids. I knew that I needed to be careful about how I dealt with those about me. Too often I ended up snappish in my manner.

The atmosphere at home became suffocating. I and my husband took what seemed to us a strict line of duty: him — providing for the wellbeing of our family, and I — devoting myself fully to the kids. And although our generous impulses had the best intentions, the outcome didn’t provide lasting happiness.

Patience — a way to transform frustration. In this blissful state, you grow familiar and confidential with your beloved people. You have a larger and more loving view when determining the right word and action.

3) Withstand frugal life and hardships.

I was aching to the distant time of those happy days when my husband was at home every night, lifting the weight of troubles by his help and loving support. The tears I shed on the occasion of his coming home from another business trip caused the sacred emotional transformation. A feeble stream of our family life needed to be revived anew, and the only solution was to reunite our family, sacrificing some pleasant but unnecessary luxuries on the way.

My husband decided to go back to his old employment with lower pay and higher healthy, meaningful time spent with his family. With each day at home and each family dinner, the healthy and benign atmosphere was coming back to the house, the chores hanged lighter on my hands.

Patience — a re-attuning to intuition. It is a way to be happy when alive and breathing, even though life may seem hard and frustrations pressing. Without patience you feel like the little tottering, stumbling, clutching child that cries bitterly when left without promised candy.

4) Feel radiance from a disappointing fall.

We abandoned our expensive car for a cheaper and a trifle less comfortable one and our pompous yearly vacations for a lovely countryside escape. When a chain of unlucky events at my husband’s work culminated in his losing the position, we didn’t despair. We lived out of our humble savings and occasional company commissions that I still received now and then.

My husband freed up from the necessity to go every day to the office finally could devote his time to his music experiments. He used to compose wonderful pieces when in college. His hobby didn’t excite much approval from his parents, and he abandoned it almost completely during the years of his company work.

Patience — a way to respond to setbacks and failure. It teaches you to turn your thoughts swiftly upon every blessing in your life, so you stop pitying yourself and fight for your place under this sun. You gather waiting, watching, and knowing skills — and reflect the wise acceptance of the inevitable, and respond to disappointment with grace.

5) Attempt to get to a distant glimmer of perfection.

My husband was shutting himself up in his study at night, interrupting his work for rounds with our crying son. The little creature grew quieter with time, sensing my increasing tranquility. I had my full night’s sleep thanks to my husband’s loving help. Our older son got much attached to his father with his bedtime stories and childish fighting games.

Sometimes the artistic progress was dishearteningly slow. Producing music, though, became more familiar with each failing attempt at reaching the desired effect. I believed in his talent and future success. I encouraged his persistent work.

Patience — a high tolerance for delay. You feel perfect timing for implementing your ideas. For people deprived of patience, it is hard to begin any project, the prospects seem vague, tangled, chaotic and the entire process exceedingly disturbing.

6) Delay gratification. It’ll make the achievement sweeter.

The daily treadmill of our home life was sweet and enchanting, notwithstanding the portioned to us hardships. I liked to see my husband, to hear him about the place and at his music work.

One year left us with a feeling that we’ve accomplished a lot of good for our family, which no money could buy. The second year brought the first small yet increasingly delightful music projects. My husband and a few of his college friends got back together and created a small-movie company.

Patience — an ability to delay gratification. Once you find enough of it within yourself you develop a sensuous susceptibility to timing. You recognize the perfect moment for each important step in your life, and if you feel that time is not right — you can wait without frustration.

7) Avoid procrastination and lend yourself to fulfilling your dream.

All three of their movies presented at the festivals didn’t gain recognition. My husband became an instigator and a powerful motivator for his small company lot. They often got together at our family dinner table to discuss future projects and share the inspirational vibe between them.

His music grew strange, turbulent and insistent, soft and plaintive — and the movie they produced with not much money but with great blissful inspiration became a winner.

Patience — a way to greater inward wisdom. Take the wiser part of grasping at every opportunity to use the capacity to tolerate suffering, and with steady tread go to every trial on the way to your dream.


Conclusion

Patience — active, powerful state. Life without patience is an eternity of torture. Patience thrashes reason into you and evokes absolute devotion to the life itself with everything that makes this experience fascinating.

This is a great practice of compassion. With it, you can always find a way to a non-irritable and non-hostile place within yourself.

Never be entreated to leave this peaceful place. All fears, and hopes, and wild emotions subside and do not jostle and chase each other through your mind when you redeem your ability to tolerate and endure.

Stay tuned…

My Father Died From Cancer, and It Taught My Mother to Write

I painstakingly pieced this story from the several treasured excerpts of her diary

You must have a divine heart to be so full of vigor when life is a misery, filled with it like a precious vase… – Olya Aman

My mother makes beauty beautiful.

She dreams in words of love and hope when her life is tragic enough to make my face distort with darkness.

Her life is a sad song for an outsider and a bright red fire for those who have the privilege to know the divine rebellion of her smile, the cheering appreciativeness of her spirit, and the great resoluteness of her mind.

My mother gifted me with her beautiful diary on my 30th birthday. I painstakingly pieced this story from the several treasured excerpts from it.


Grace Your Life with the Presence of a Diary

Life may seem vengeful. When a beloved person is forever lost the existence appears empty. A painful loss sternly represses breathing although the chest is heaving with passionate feeling. Eyes become blind to all life attractions, ears deaf to all the words of love and affection. Every living being that still keeps smiling looks so provokingly heartless and mindless.

May 1988: “I buried myself in the full of soul eyes of my dying husband. I know I need to think of my dear child and myself for her sake, but it is so hard to tear myself from his bedside. His sufferings make my heart weep. I wish I could sacrifice myself and save him. His voice rising painfully when he holds my hand and pronounces my name. I quiver with restrained grief and smile to cheer him up.”

My father was going through tormenting sufferings on his way to the end of life. His pain, the result of advanced incurable cancer, was inadequately relieved. The question of surgery was not even possible to discuss. It was too late.

May 1988: “My diary is my salvation. I often write and hold his hand in mine. I put on paper what I feel and fold it in two. I plead and pray to God and hide it in my soul.”

July 1988: “He is in constant pain but looks the very incarnation of quiet bravery and love. Even in his intolerable condition, he strives to carry away my disquietude by talking about the beauty of life after death and the pleasure I should feel on this earth even when he will leave me.”

August 1988: “Whenever he is awake from his tired slumber he asks me to write the messages to daughter so I can deliver it to her when she will grow up to understand the preciousness of every word that was voiced through pain and suffering. I like to listen to his sentiments. I love his extreme good sense, his exquisite taste, and the feeling of life. He urges our girl to be uncompromisingly bold in the defense of her opinion and life principals, to be earnest and keen in pursuing her dreams, and to win the esteem of her mother and father by vindicating her character from any unkind inclination.”

Let Place, People, and Obligations Comfort Your Spirit

The freedom of nature and tranquility of some quiet shelter gives a sense of repose and expansion to the mind. When you take your place on a bench under your favorite tree it opens the floodgates of your soul. Here in loneliness, you can pour away the tears of grief. Being with beautiful life one on one you can learn all over again to feel the rays of sunshine with your soul and to experience the freshness of breeze with your heart.

October 1988: “With an agitated, burning heart and brain, I live through every minute of my life without him. How do I dare to live when he is not among the living? The one who in intellect, in purity and elevation of soul, was immeasurably superior to anyone I know. I rush outside to cool my feelings in the balmy winter air, and to compose myself each time I feel the hot tears coming to my throat. The solitude of my garden helps me to put on a gleeful smile to cheer my child.”

December 1988: “The poison of this loss spreads through all my essence. I now recognize its harmful intentions. The serious depth of it may kill life within me. I fight it, turn my back upon it. I seek retirement for my pain in taking care of my girl. She is my salvation. I let my head to be carried away by her childish ideas. There is no better cure like a merry, simple-hearted child — ever ready to cement broken heart, to melt the ice of freezing soul, and overthrow the walls of sorrowful isolation.”

Open up Your Heart to a Friend

It is an overwhelming toil to be in constant grief. Everyone needs to recover from the effects of it and a close attachment to the living dear people is the best cure in this case. A heartfelt conversation with a friend can fill you with faith, hope, and joy. It will drive away the keen regrets and bitter dregs of lingering sorrow that still oppresses your heart.

March 1989: “My mother is my faithful friend. When I see a flash of love in her eyes, a glow of sincere care on her face — I think that one day I will cease to feel this pain. When throbbing recollection flashes upon me, and a cloud of sorrow darkens my eyes, I talk to her: in person, on the phone, or in my mind, and a moment of inward conflict gives place to quiet conduct. I start to behave with exceeding calmness so that she never had to reprove me once.”

Delightful and Fruitful Activity

Perhaps another great healing technique would be an activity, business, hobby — the mode of actions that is enjoyable to the utmost degree for you. Keeping yourself busy and enjoying every moment of it is not a job, it is a recovery process that cures your heart and heals your soul. Leading an active life prevents you from disturbing your own heart by touching upon the infectious thoughts of loss and grief too often.

November 1989: “I started my diary with more truth than wisdom. In the beginning, I was still fearing to be rooted to my loss. Often the paroxysm of pain and despair was preventing me from saying what I was intended to say. A torrent of tears stained the pages with misery, and I prayed for forgetfulness. But only memory gave life to my words. Never do I endure so long, so blissful nights as when I write. I go through every moment of happiness and pain all over again. My goal is to keep the fire of my foaming and swelling with emotions life engaging and bright, so it warms the heart of my child when I give it to her to read and remember.”

September 1990: “Smiles and tears are so alike with me. I often cry when there is nothing left but to laugh and smile when I am in bitter grief. My diary is my remedy. I feel graceful easiness and freedom about all I do these days. The expansion that this new activity gives to my mind is so refreshing.”

October 1990: “I cannot stop writing. A broad sea is rolling between my past and present. My soul is forever united to the one that is dead in body but always living in my heart. My husband is my everyday companion. I feel his soothing presence. And this feeling of our reunion is not sad anymore, but rejuvenating.”


My mother started a diary and found consolation in putting her feelings on paper. Writing those down by-the-by brought consolation. It brightened the doomed comprehension of life. The melancholy musings and painful lamentations stayed on paper.

The words of sorrow, written in her diary, purchased solace and tranquility.


Conclusion

To find an antidote to painful emotions is essential. Grief, when left alone, may carry you away against any reason and will. It breathes a tired apathy born of long sorrow and hopelessness. You need to fight for your life and happiness every day for the sake of those who are living and for those who are no longer among us.

To be a prey to distressful feelings is a sad destiny. To do our utmost to live life happily is the only installment of our universal debt. There is certain graceful ease about being busy with daily life, household chores, taking care of the kids. These activities distract from painful recollections. When you remind yourself that there are still living people that need your attention, you tend to forget to torment yourself with thoughts about death — life is calling you to be present and active.

Stay tuned…