Growing up, I was never a patient child. I was famous for eating the cookie dough before we got to baking, and my sister and I still employ a tradition of peeking at our Christmas presents early. Later in life, bending the rules of patience is not so easy or inconsequential, and every day I am learning more about holding my quiet and distant center. When broad questions about national fate hang in the balance, the act of practicing patience is not only an unfortunate necessity, but a sacrifice for the assurance of a just society.
In days when your patience is tested, how do you hold fast and hold strong? When heaven and earth quake, how do you quiet your heart for the long journey of waiting? How do you look within even as the world revolves around you? When has patience been a sacrifice, and when has it been a blessing?
Brianna Curran, Washington DC