On Patience and Trust

And remembering to breathe

How are you doing? How is your heart? Your body? Your spirit?

It’s the first week of May, and things have quickly become loud and busy. Time has changed itself once more, from the neverending stretch that was April into the blink of an eye that is May.

How are you doing? Have you taken the time lately to pause, close your eyes, take a deep breath?

Here’s your little reminder from me, that there is time to do this. You have time to put your feet on the floor, place your hands on your lap, let your shoulders drop down and relax your jaw. You even have time to smile!

How has the weather been in your neck of the woods? We can’t quite believe our good luck here in Minneapolis - the rain has finally (finally) subsided. Tulips and daffodils are giving way to gorgeous, captivating flowering trees. I was so taken with one yesterday that I nearly left my phone on the sidewalk. It’s overwhelming to be able to take in such fleeting, simple beauty. The lilacs have even begun to show, and I’m ecstatic to share that we have three clusters of them on the bush in our backyard that my husband has been mindfully tending to for the past five years.

Five years. A long time, right?

Not everything happens overnight, or in a week. Some things don’t even happen in a month, or a year.

Five years. Maybe this will get easier with age, but now - in my early 40s - I don’t really have the wisdom to understand what goes into waiting five years for something. I have just a few points of reference for it: it took me nearly five years to get my music education degree. The same amount of time passed from when my husband and I started trying to get pregnant and when our first son was born. And now, apparently, it took nearly five years for our sweet little lilac bush in the back of our small urban yard to make a comeback.

Waiting for sunshine, waiting for new growth. Waiting for change. It seems to me that somewhere in-between a month and a year and five years, patience changes to trust. Another word for this might be faith, but I’ve always struggled with that word (and concept). Trust feels more available to me, easier to talk about.

How are you doing? How is your heart? Your body? Your mind?

I wonder, is there anything in your life you feel you’ve been working tirelessly at, or waiting patiently for, that has yet to come into being the way you’ve hoped it would? Does it seem to be in slow motion, or at a complete standstill all together?

It’s so hard to keep pouring our energy into something or someone, only to have it stay put.

Remember to breathe.

Maybe it’s taking an actual breath, or maybe - for this thing that’s not moving - it’s releasing your grip and letting it breathe on its own for a while.

I wish I had more guidance for you, or some sort of crystal ball. Something I do have is space, to hold trust. I am happy and able to hold space for you, to sit with you, to share words with you, to be present with you. I’m very willing and honored to hold space for you on your journey, whatever it may be. Whatever you have been patiently waiting for, whether you can name it or only have a vague feeling or desire. And, if you are inclined to believe in something greater, something that connects all of us - I’ll smile and remind you that the Universe can hold all of this for you, too. The Universe, God, Spirit — whatever you are comfortable calling it, if you are. The space between the stars, the invisible fabric that holds the stitches - it’s there, too. And if you’re not inclined to holding that sort of belief, that’s okay, too. Maybe you (I see you) can trust the yearly flow of winter into spring, the gentle unfurling of a fern in the woods. The sun (and sometimes, rainbows) that comes after a gorgeous drenching of rain from the clouds.

This first week of May, I wish you peace. Peace, and hope, and trust.

Love, Nikki