Maybe it is catching.

We talked about patience at my community group this week. The topic came up with the story of Noah. We’ve been reading through the book of Genesis, and we hit chapter 8. In the biblical account of the flood, the rains ended after 40 days, but Noah and his family didn’t open the doors for almost a year. The water receded, the ark had landed, and he just waited until God told him it was time to step out into the empty world.

Patience. Noah must have had some of it in that boat with the animals and family members. Patience is also identified as a fruit of the Holy Spirit. It’s a virtue—the evidence of something greater than my own humanity.

I thought I was a patient person. I’ve always tried to give the people around me a reasonable amount of time—even a graceful amount of time—to act/do/respond as they should. This is patience, or so I thought.

It occurred to me during this study that maybe my definition of patience isn’t very virtuous after all. After someone takes longer than my mental permit allows, then I begin feeling impatient, irritated or annoyed. So my patience really doesn’t require any adjustment of my attitude or expectations. I equate being reasonably-gracious to being patient.

Perhaps patience is better understood in the KJV translation as long-suffering. The word implies discomfort instead of grace. Am I willing to be made uncomfortable—to stay on the ark when the ground looks dry—in order to demonstrate the love of Christ to those around me? Not often enough.

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This is becoming something of a phenomenon in my family.

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And my weekend starts in 3... 2... 1...

Rolling in.

There is nothing quite as shocking as finding out that an immediate family member has secretly started a blog.

When I was at my parents’ house last week, my dad admitted that he recently began a new web venture to benefit society in general. Namely, he started a blog to offer advice to the public. However, due to limited exposure, he needs people to start asking for his opinions! Check out his fantastic blog at www.hungerisgood.blogspot.com. Pay him a visit and hand a major life dilemma into his capable hands.

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Dan and I visited the Oregon Coast Aquarium on Friday. It was a late afternoon on a cloudy day at the coast, so it seemed like we had the place to ourselves. The sea otters were my favorite with their somersaults, and Dan and I are both suckers for those informational plaques along the way.

We enjoyed a late dinner by the beach (it was too dark to see the water, but the menu was delightful), and a serene drive back to Portland. I am glad to live just a short drive from the coast while still enjoying the perks of city life.

Blown away with the breeze.

Carolyn and I usually do chores on Mondays. We rotate duties each week, so it doesn't get monotonous. And we both really appreciate the result. This arrangement has lasted a year and a half now. My house is extraordinarily clean tonight, and I am enjoying it.

As if it could get any better, I went through my closet last night, and I finally got rid of all the clothes that I had been keeping but not wearing for the last five years. I am proud to say that two large bags full of clothes are now on their way out of my life.

Sometimes I wonder why I keep things so long. I know part of the reason- clothes can be strongly associated with a memory from my life, and that can be hard to part with. This weekend I got rid of the "capris that were such a good deal," the "shoes that I wanted so much when I was a freshman in college," and the "shirt that is such a good color, but really not a good fit." Ah. Freedom.

Yes, there are a few items that I decided to give one more chance, but I have resolved that they won't make it through the next pruning unless they magically become favorites between now and then.