Enduring hard things
what patience has been teaching me
I’ve never been one for patience. Becoming a wife and mother only solidified that. I wasn’t patient in dating. I wasn’t patient in childbirth. I’m not even patient when I get fries from McDonald’s—I scald my mouth the second that brown paper bag hits my hands. But over time, and with a little age, you start to remember that saying… good things take time. And eventually, you actually start to believe it.
Marriage, as blissful as it is in those first few weeks, doesn’t truly become a “good thing” until you invest the time and effort. The same is even more true for parenting. The jury is still out on the fries, though.
Patience has brought me so much. Patience—or perseverance, if you will—produces good things:
“Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.”
— Romans 5:3–4 (ESV)
Hope. The patience drilled into me as a child can bring me hope. I find it in marriage, parenting, writing, baking, gardening… all those painstaking little things that still somehow fill me with hope. Hope for more good days. Hope for shared laughter, clean rooms, words written, books sold, blooms in the garden. So much hope.
And yet, I find myself slipping into despair at least once a day lately. I have so much hope—for this next season of life, for my book, for my family, for my career—that I sometimes pull my eyes off the one true source of hope: the One who inspires these good and true desires, the One who is meant to be glorified above all else.
My next book releases this week, and I should be talking about that. And yet I feel conflicted—or perhaps convicted—that I’ve allowed myself to be distracted. I’ve dove headfirst into marketing, scrolling social media, chasing the next “big break.” I’ve been so hopeful that my children will make it through the day in a good mood that I hand over whatever TV show or snack they ask for. I’ve hoped so desperately for my husband and his hopes that I try to force my ideas on him, when really, he’s content with the outcome. My “hope” has been skewed. My “hope” has been false.
So I’m trying to reorient. I’m still marketing my book though—can’t put in all that work and do nothing—but I’ve set limits. I’ve accepted that things won’t be “perfect for the grid” and my story will find its people.
It’s funny, though—this little romance story is about hope. A husband and wife so lost in their life that they lose sight of each other. A husband who forgets who his wife is but hopes he’ll remember. A wife who takes care of everyone else, hoping one day it’ll be her turn. That’s life, isn’t it? That’s what the stories we pour ourselves into are about: hope in something.
Even amidst all this, I’m reminded of His goodness. The hopes I place in worldly things often come to fruition because of His love and provision. After nearly two years in our home, we finally have tile in the bathroom—a huge deal! I hoped for this the day we moved in. I spent a year writing this book, and it’s nearly here. I did it. My 19-month-old son announces, “I did it!” with every little accomplishment. Even in this hope, if we work backward, we see that it can also motivate us to endure and persevere. So we keep going. Keep hoping. Keep writing.
And occasionally come on here and ramble about it, I guess. Is it weird that I just come in here unprepared? Should I be more professional?
I don’t know. Remember that shift note thing I attempted a few weeks ago? Yeah, what was I thinking? Not something I will be enduring with anytime soon. Twas fun while it lasted!
If you’re looking for a beautiful book that’s available to read NOW while you wait for mine (hehe), may I suggest We Danced Among Shadows by Ashley Dill!
Here’s the blurb:
“If he took dancing from you, take it back. Every chance you get.”
Six years after losing his wife, Jesse Holmes has dedicated his life to his son and Meadowbrook Ranch. And he’s determined not to let grief or the bottle rule him ever again. But his foundation shakes when a ranch wedding stirs painful memories. On the cusp of a relapse, he finds comfort in a guest who stirs something else entirely—feelings he doubted he’d ever have again.
Hollie Aldridge appears to have it all—a rich husband, two beautiful daughters, and a luxurious lifestyle. But she’s keeping secrets. Isolated by long term abuse, Hollie doesn’t know how to reach out for help. When her husband leaves her, she fends for herself to keep the peace, protect her girls, and manage her family’s expectations.
Masking her grief, she flies to Texas for her sister’s wedding, hoping to avoid drama at all costs. Yet five minutes after she steps off the airplane, she’s thrown into crisis with a handsome cowboy whose wide-open vulnerability cracks her fortress walls. Stealing away after the wedding, they share a dance. And the memories of him haunt her for weeks to come.
When Hollie returns to the ranch to stay for the summer, Jesse’s unflinching pursuit turns her world upside down. But opening her heart requires exposing the betrayals she has protected for so many years. Will their connection be another secret she keeps hidden in the dark? Or the dawn of her healing?
We Danced Among Shadows, is a single dad, cowboy romance set in Central Texas and the second installment of Meadowbrook Ranch—an emotional series about trauma, healing, and love amid crisis.
Amazon - We Danced Among Shadows
Goodreads - We Danced Among Shadows
That’s all I have for this rambling stream of thoughts. If you’ve made it this far, thank you! I appreciate you. Talk soon!
Hugs,
Gray