Last week, I gathered some grumbly kids together at the counter. It was hot, and we were tired and had been focused for too long on our own individual projects. We had forgotten to chat with each other, to listen for answers, to have the patience to do so.
I had gathered up the supplies, some colourful wool hand-dyed by a local mum, bowls of warm water, and some soap.
Together we soaped and shaped our roving into little nests, dunking the fibres into the warm water over and over again.
Frustration began to mount over Maggie’s own project. Why wasn’t hers working! Why wasn’t she having the success we were? Why did her little bird’s nest look more like a rat’s nest!
ARGH! She proclaimed.
As we rolled and smoothed our work, I reminded them (and myself!) about patience. How it can be easy to brush off our incomplete dreams on our lack of patience, how we believe the art of patience is gifted to us rather than a skill we must develop. And that even at the brink of frustration, we still have the ability to breathe deeply and find what we might have left on reserve.
It’s true. Our end results were varying, which we later learned was the result of our different fibres, but ultimately, we each ended up with something that we found to be pleasing.
And after all that frustration, this is Maggie’s…her third try, but the still, a sweet little creation.