Several months ago I was given the opportunity to speak in worship at our church. It was in the middle of a sermon series on the fruits of the Spirit. The Sunday I was to speak corresponded with the day “Patience” was to be the topic. I thought it was funny that God would have chosen that day for me. After all, I am not known for being a patient person.
I learned a lot about myself during the weeks of preparation leading up to the sermon. I learned about what patience really is. I’d always thought of it as the ability to wait calmly. As I did some study, however, I learned that it’s slightly different than what I understood. Patience, which in some translations is “longsuffering” or “endurance”, is defined in Strong’s dictionary by two Greek words, makrothumia and hupomone.
The first, makrothumia, comes from makros, which means “long”, and thumos, which means “temper.” The word denotes lenience, forbearance, fortitude, patient endurance, longsuffering. Also included in makrothumia is the ability to endure persecution and ill-treatment. It describes a person who has the power to exercise revenge but instead exercises restraint.
The latter, hupomone, is translated “endurance.” It is constancy, perseverance, continuance, bearing up, steadfastness, and holding out. The word combines hupo, which means “under”, and mone, “to remain”. It describes the capacity to continue to bear up under difficult circumstances, not with a passive complacency, but with a hopeful fortitude that actively resists weariness and defeat, with hupomone being further understood as that which would be “as opposed to cowardice or despondency.”
I think God is working on me about my patience (or lack thereof) again. Dealing with Mom requires a great deal of endurance and forbearance. Exercising restraint is so tough! I would love to just make her eat or walk or move. I’ve said before that caring for her reminds me of caring for a toddler. The difficulty is the reversal of roles. A toddler learns new things and practices them to reinforce and get better at them. Mom is losing ground. Today she insisted on trying to eat with her right hand even though her right arm is broken and in a cast. She would not use her left hand and argued that she’d never had to use that hand.
She often doesn’t remember who I am but tells me often that “Donna did this” or “Donna did that.” She won’t trust me to help her stand one moment but then tells me how much she needs me in another. It is frustrating to communicate with someone who cannot always hear or understand you.
My journey with Mom is ongoing. Some days I’m tired and restless, not just with caregiving with her, but other people and situations I encounter. Stresses and frustrations pile up. It’s hard to find “a hopeful fortitude that actively resists weariness and defeat.” It has truly been the summer of impatience in my spirit.
Even as I write this, I look across the table where she is dozing in her chair and feel a rush of love and compassion for her. She is like a child in many ways, yet there is the woman who birthed me, loved me, cared for me. She gave of herself to help me grow and mature. When I hold her hands, I remember the hours of wonder I spent as a child holding those same hands. So much of Mom is very different, yet so much of her is still here. How blessed I am to be able to care for her!
