I Prayed for Patience, God Sent Me Two Daughters
- Feb 17
- 2 min read
We’ve all done it. We've knelt down, closed our eyes, and prayed for patience. It sounds so lovely and spiritually mature, doesn't it? Like God just downloads a chill, effortless demeanor straight into your spirit. Let me tell you, if you're 40+ and you're still praying this prayer, you already know the truth: God doesn't supply the patience; He supplies the opportunities to build it. And nothing, absolutely nothing, has been a better patience-inducing, character-developing experience quite like raising daughters.
I’m currently competing in the patience Olympics with two beautiful, hormone-fueled humans. One is driving, prepping for her collegiate career, and making huge life choices that require me to step back and trust. The other is hitting that pre-teen milestone age, trying to figure out her identity while aggressively challenging mine.
It's such an interesting, exhausting dance between patience and parenting that no one ever truly talks about. This isn’t a flirty two-step; it’s often a full-contact sport. Some days, I feel like I'm handling the stress with the grace of Michelle Obama. Other days, I wonder which committee ever agreed to let me mother children. Like, what was I thinking? I love them to life, but I feel myself being stretched in ways that no job, relationship, financial challenge, or painful experience ever prepared me for.
My daughters are the mirrors I never asked for; they are the professional character creators life gifted me. They reflect every boundary I need to enforce, every fear I haven't conquered, and every inconsistency in my own behavior. That raw reflection is what makes this so challenging. The frustration with them is often the frustration with me that I haven't fully healed yet.
This struggle with self-sufficiency that I discussed in my "Purpose" post? It shows up right here. It makes it hard to trust them with the consequences of their choices, just like it makes it hard to fully trust God with the outcome of my life.
I sometimes sit here and wonder what reward is given at the end of the road for successful parenting. Is there an Amazon gift card? A tax break? A lifetime supply of wine?
The reward isn't the finish line; it’s the transformation that happens during the race. Our children are God's most effective training mechanism. They break us of our self-reliance and force us to depend on a strength far greater than our own wisdom.
If I get to master parenting, if I get to successfully launch two whole, secure, and faith-filled adults into the world, and in the process, I get to develop the unshakable, immovable patience of the saints? I've truly won.
We’re not aiming for perfection; we’re aiming for perseverance. And we will get there, one deep breath at a time.
Continue to write your story, one healing page at a time... QP
I love this reflection. The only thing that stood out to me was how many times you said ‘if.’ And I say this with soul much love; I don’t even see ‘if’ in your story. I see ‘as.’
As you succeed.
As you win.
As you continue becoming.
The energy you’re already sending out feels like a win. The intention alone is momentum. You’re not waiting to win — you’re already moving like someone who has, sis. I read somewhere that children don’t treat themselves how you treat them, they treat themselves how you treat yourself. I love this insight, keep them coming. Asè.