Patience is a virtue, not a given. I wouldn't say I'm the most patient person to begin with: I'm a "Let's see the results now" kind of girl. So you can imagine having patience for my own self very hard. "You're your own worst critic" is a mantra I'm trying to break this new year.

Where does patience come from? How does it grow? How can it be nurtured? The answer to these questions may be patience itself... too philosophical, I know, but think practically: Where do you find tangible patience in moments when you are on edge?

My daughter received a kitten for her birthday a couple months ago. The gift was very exciting for her and secretly  just as much of a present for myself. Babies fascinate me: Baby kittens, puppies, baby babies. There is something about a baby anything that forces my mind to slow down and have patience with it. The kitten is in the dishwasher: "Aw, that's cute." The kitten is stuck in the closet: "Poor thing." The kitten just ate a stink bug: "Gross, but what a hunting tiger!" Of course the tiger will grow up, scratch the couch, and not be cute anymore, but let's stay with the baby phase for a minute. How can I transform this kind of patience into some leniency for my everyday self? Can I recognize that in some (good) ways we never really grow up? That if we are still curious, exploring, testing ourselves, and making mistakes that that is the youth in us still growing? And if that's the case, can't I give patience and understanding to myself in the way I would a child? Hmmm...this may take some practice, but I like the new perspective.

I'm having a memory of when my kids first learned to walk -- That image of them falling hard on their diapered butts; the look of surprise and tears. But after the first few times falling, it is no big deal. It's part of the process and they get right back up with those goofy baby grins. They've given themselves something that as an adult, is hard to give myself: Patience.