Only a Matter of Time

Sunday morning I rouse my wife, Candy, to get ready for church. I have been up for a while, showering, dressing,
having breakfast and tending to details to facilitate the flow of the morning, such as staging Candy’s purse, water bottle, coat, hat and gloves. She drinks her fruit smoothie and coffee. Cleans up and dresses, checking what color I’m wearing so we can match. I try my best not to look at my watch, knowing already we’re going to be late.

We’re finally out the door, but we still have to pick up her father at his senior living residence. I bring him down to the car in his wheelchair, and when we arrive, I wheel him into church. The service has already started, but we can slip into a cutout space by the last pew on the outside aisle.

Candy’s ability to gauge time has been distorted by her Alzheimer’s. When I was serving as a pastor, not only did I make a point of starting on time, but I arrived early enough not to rush. I wanted to be calm and focused. Getting comfortable with a relaxed worship arrival time took me over a year. The pastor and folks around us just seem happy we are there. I am learning to get her started and let her find her own pace. Trying to move her any faster is counterproductive.

When I start to feel antsy, I remember that God is always patient with me.