Recently, a package arrived for our 13-year-old son, much earlier than I had anticipated. He eagerly expected it by Sunday evening, as the tracking information had indicated. When I explained that USPS doesn’t operate on Sundays, his enthusiasm quickly waned. He would have to wait a full day longer to receive the headphones he had meticulously researched and saved up for—a palpable disappointment.
In moments like these, I find myself grappling with irritation. It’s easy to forget that my child, although privileged, struggles to cope with unmet expectations. A minor setback like this can feel monumental, particularly when I consider those who face far harsher realities, like homelessness or hunger. I suggested he find a way to distract himself while he waited for his delivery.
Reflecting on my own behavior, I realize I can be quite hypocritical. I recall a breakfast with an acquaintance, who casually mentioned their side gig as a medium. Instantly, all professional discourse vanished from my mind. The idea of communicating with the deceased intrigued me. While I recognize that some individuals exploit the gullible for profit, I also believe in the possibility of genuine psychic abilities—just as I believe in those with a talent for math or a fondness for insects.
After some contemplation, I arranged a session with this medium and prepared a question for her. I was instructed to focus on this inquiry without disclosing it to her, while she would channel insights from my spirit guide. I won’t disclose my question, but let’s just say it revolved around some long-held desires that occupy my thoughts—perhaps a Mediterranean cruise or a more relaxed wardrobe.
Upon receiving her insights, however, I was greeted with an unexpected image: my spirit guide was a figure resembling a mix of Roberto Benigni and Richard Simmons, scampering down a railroad track while snacking on peaches and popcorn. While amusing, this vision didn’t align with my aspirations. Instead, it seemed to convey a message about patience and the need to allow things to unfold naturally rather than seeking immediate gratification.
There’s a route I often take to downtown that I optimistically believe might be faster if I’m running late. However, it features a traffic light we’ve dubbed the “punishment light”—a signal that seems to take an eternity to change. This light often turns green just as I approach, forcing me to wait unnecessarily.
Much like my son waiting for his headphones, this “punishment light” serves as a reminder that life can throw delays our way for reasons we may not understand. It encourages me to reflect on those who face far greater challenges and to embrace the waiting rather than resist it. Sometimes, though, the universe surprises us—like when a package meant for Monday arrives on Sunday, bringing joy to my son.
In conclusion, patience is a virtue that often requires practice, and it’s important to recognize that our personal “punishment lights” can serve as opportunities for growth and perspective.
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