I love to paint a room. Not just because it makes the space look brand new and fresh while hiding all evidence of previous flaws, but because it provides instant gratification! Guilty as charged, I have always been an impatient person.
Not a brilliant quality if one is also a perfectionist, such as I have become over the years. However, back in my youth as a very young (non-perfectionist/impatient woman) I can recall painting my front porch….right over the bugs, hairballs, spider webs and pretty much anything that was in the path of my rolling brush!
I could easily say the same for the choices I made in my romantic relationships back in those days. Speaking of bugs, hairballs and spider webs…
On top of it all, I was a helpless romantic. Hmmm. Let’s see. Impatient, non- perfectionist helpless romantic. Let’s just go ahead and throw into our crockpot recipe of disaster, naiveté sprinkled with a touch of reckless abandonment.
“Mom, you are just going to love Charles!”
Needless to say, mom didn’t love Charles. Or Frank. Or Tom. Or Jeff…
I suppose I bought into the Disney version that we must find love! And we must find it fast! Or we would quickly shrivel up into a form of nothingness, much like the wicked witch of the west’s gnarled pointy shoes as the house lands on her dreadful person in the Wizard of Oz.
Each relationship disaster provided a new lesson until the bugs, hairballs and spider webs finally became draining, boring and predictable.
And then it occurred to me. Patience. Uh, patience? How could such a thing even exist? But I could no longer deny my long string of disappointments could have been avoided if I would learn to take my time and expect awesomeness. The real turning point was when I realized that if Mister Man never came along, well that would be okay too.
All was well in the world and I was fortunate enough to find Mister Man. I had worked hard to find my peace and that only came through patience. Great lessons learned which is the beauty of being a woman.
One lovely spring afternoon, Mister Man and I decided to paint the front porch. We gathered our supplies and I was in the process of sweeping the area before we began. The phone rang and I had to take the call so I walked inside.
As I came back out to the porch I observed our son holding my rolling brush clinched in his hand with porch paint leaking all over the place. “Mom! Don’t worry about the bugs, hairballs or spider webs!” Just paint right over them. No one will ever notice! Trust me!<