I've been contemplating infinite patience. When I think of those two words, combined like that, they are capitalized and important: Infinite Patience. A super power, perhaps.
What could a person do with Infinite Patience? She could build lego castles with her 3-year-old from dawn to dusk without complaint. She could answer every question asked of her, never rolling her eyes or stopping short out of irritation. She could respond to her three-year-old's overly tired demands to stop talking, stop talking RIGHT NOW with serenity.
On Monday we drove out to Snoqualmie Falls. Massive in its roar, white water spraying hundreds of feet into the air. We marveled over the volume of water passing over the cliff's edge and stood on the walkway until our faces were wet from the condensation.
Watching the falls, my eyes got lost in the force of it all: the quantity, the overwhelming largeness of the waves of water. When I closed my eyes, I heard nothing but the pounding thrum. Chip pointed to the cliff face, helped me to notice the small spurts of water freely falling, separated from the main body.
I imagined those small spurts of water, miles upstream, quietly collecting as drops of water in tiny running rivulets.
I imagined those small drops of water melting from snow.
I imagined the snow, drifting one flake at a time.
Ice crystals and water molecules, high mountain passes and cascades--- the stuff of Infinite Patience. Something to be learned there: how beauty takes time to collect, how powerful the force it creates because it doesn't rush.
2 comments:
So that's what it looks like. We actually started to go there too on Monday but then I read "NO PETS" on their web site and told Mark "guess they won't let in our child." so we decided that we'd have to go another day.
Lovely post, as usual.
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