Every ounce of patience

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Sunday Morning Session of the October 2001 Conference. 

Somehow in three different places this week I've run into the idea that Jesus served others when it was inconvenient. Clearly it's a truth I needed to hear—that true service usually requires interrupting our own plans, our own comfort, in order to minister when ministering is most needed. Coincidentally (ha ha), this is also a week where I've thought over and over again, "Now? I don't want to do this now! It's so late!/I'm so tired!/I'm not feeling patient enough!/I'm in the middle of something! I didn't start out this day wanting it to go like this!" And yet, whether I like it or not, there these trials and opportunities have been…waiting to see what I will do with them.

Sister Sharon G. Larsen tells this story about her dad:

I used to farm with my dad. I didn’t always enjoy it, but when lunchtime came we’d sit in the shade of the tall poplar trees, eat our lunch, and talk. My dad didn’t use this as a golden teaching moment to lay down the law and straighten out his daughter. We just talked—about anything and everything.

This was the time I could ask questions. I felt so safe I could even ask questions that might provoke him. I remember asking him, “Why did you embarrass me in front of my friends last week when I had stayed out too late and you came and got me?”

His answer leads to another aspect of love. He wasn’t being arbitrary. There were certain standards of behavior I was expected to live. He said, “Having you out late worried me. Above all, I want you safe.” I realized his love for me was stronger than his desire for sleep or the inconvenience of getting dressed and driving down the road looking for me.

Whether it is a hayfield or other casual places, those times together can fill the reservoir for other times that may not be as idyllic and serene. Relationships stay intact with this kind of investment—in spite of hard doctrine and correction—or maybe because of it.

I like the idea of filling a reservoir which can then be drawn on during the less "idyllic and serene" times (to put it mildly) (though sometimes I wonder if there could even be a reservoir large enough for some of the times I've encountered lately!). And then here's this idea I keep running into:

Love is listening when they are ready to talk—midnight, 6 a.m. on their way to seminary, or when you’re busy with your urgencies.

This was really good too:

One of the greatest tests for parents and leaders is to love the one who seems to be unlovable. This is tough duty. It stretches the heartstrings and wrenches the soul. When heartbroken parents pray for help, the help often comes in the form of angel aunts or uncles, grandmas or grandpas, good friends, and leaders surrounding our loved one. They can reinforce our very message that may put our child on the track we’ve been praying for.…

I close with my testimony that we are not alone in this sacred trust of parenting, loving, and leading. There is no greater joy. It is worth every sacrifice, every inconvenient minute, every ounce of patience, personal discipline, and endurance. “If God be for us, who can be against us?”

I've felt this so much—my patience measured out ounce by painful ounce (and far too soon depleted). But I have to trust that just piling up these inconvenient minutes, day by day, year after year, in patience and endurance and love, will eventually lead to, as Sister Larsen says, the greatest joy!