I have the patience of a vulture circling a dead carcass. Just let me at it already. Unless vultures are actually patient, since they often wait for things to die. I don’t know anything about vultures. This could be the worst analogy ever, but either way, the point is, I have none. Not a point, not patience.

I’m not sure what’s worse, to be the impatient vulture or the peaceful dead carcass. You could say “at least the vulture is alive.” True, but some days I’d just rather be the dead carcass. At least then my lack of patience wouldn’t overwhelm me to the point of insanity.

Most recently, it was bathroom renovations trying my sanity. To make matters worse (probably better in truth) my father in law helping me has the patience of a saint. When we rip up the tub to find a leaking pipe, he calmly decides a course of action and takes it. When our crawl space is too small to get underneath the bathroom and reach the plumbing, he calmly finds a solution. Meanwhile, I’m crying in the corner cursing God for my woeful life. If he wasn’t there, I would have had everything torn down, then been so frustrated with my lack of ability to fix anything in 30 minutes, I’d probably just burn the house down and walk away. That’s my tragic logic and lack of patience at work.

That’s what I mean when I say i’d rather be the dead carcass. You’re lifeless. You’ll most definitely be eaten. But at least you’re life doesn’t constantly feel upside down. You know…on account of being dead and all.

Maybe there is a third option. To learn patience. I’m not sure where that fits in the metaphor. The bible says that for God, a day is like a thousand years and a thousand years like a day. That’s crazy talk. My impatient mind can’t comprehend that. It feels like a thousand years to wait at a red light let alone put up with my inane ramblings and justifications, the way God always does.

I’m probably testing your patience right now, making you read this post. Because what in the heck am I talking about? I wish I knew.

Mostly I am just tired of going through each day feeling anxious, as if life will be over if I don’t get where I’m going as fast as possible, or if I don’t finish a task 10 minutes earlier. I fight for free time, then waste it staring at my iPhone, then feel terrible for not reading my bible or playing with my kids or doing something useful on behalf of humanity.

I wish I could enjoy the moment I’m in so I’m not hurrying through to the next one, always looking for something better and more fulfilling. My vulture like lack of patience is stealing my joy.

Mostly, I’m trying to say that bathroom renos are brutal.