Pain, My Unrelenting Teacher

I have learned much from this teacher, Pain.

As a child, I learned that if I threw a tantrum then I would get a beating. I remember one time I cried SO much because my mom left and I wanted to go with her. I was on the floor, whining, screaming, crying out loud, and doing everything else a spoilt little brat would do in order to get her way. Suffice to say, my grandma beat that personality out of me. Well, most of it. HaHa. I am grateful for the pain that taught me as a child to give up some foolish and inconsiderate ways. There was no need to cry or throw tantrums because my mom was coming back.

It is experiences similar to this that taught me patience and understanding.

Patience:

If you keep giving children what they want, how else will they learn patience? If you do not teach them patience enough to wait until they get home to eat, and patience enough to wait until it's their turn, then how will they learn to be patient in their relationships, patient with those on the road, and patient with children. If they learn to be patient with small things then they will learn to be patient with bigger things.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf said,

"Patience - the ability to put our desires on hold for a time - is a precious and rare virtue. We want what we want, and we want it now. Therefore, the very idea of patience may seem unpleasant and, at times, bitter.

Nevertheless, without patience, we cannot please God; we cannot become perfect. Indeed, patience is a purifying process that refines understanding, deepens happiness, focuses action, and offers hope for peace… if children are ever going to mature and reach their potential, they must learn to wait. "

Understanding:

This then leads me to how pain taught me understanding by first teaching me patience. When one learns to be patient one can look at all the components of the puzzle. In fact, when dealing with any puzzle, one must examine each piece, noting its specific shape, pattern, and color in order to place it in the right place. Such is life, if you rush and quickly grab the pieces that look most colorful or are shaped better they will not fit when you place them on the board. If we are patient we then understand that ALL pieces are needed if you want to complete the puzzle. We also note that all pieces are different, have a purpose and have a place. We have the special corner pieces, side puzzle pieces, and random in between pieces. We get frustrated with the pieces that all look similar but are not the same. You know which pieces I’m talking about. The 60 or so pieces in a 100 piece puzzle that make up the sky, or the ocean, or the trees. You can’t base your puzzle placement solely on how it looks instead you have to place each one next to a piece on the board. Pick up a piece and place it next to another blue one. Nope, doesn’t fit. Next piece. Nope, doesn’t fit. Next piece. Yes, it sort of fits if I just squish it in this way. Ugh. Fine. It doesn’t fit. You try this about 10 or so times until (1) you find the right piece (2) you move to another scenery or (3) you get bored of and/or lose patience with the puzzle. Patience is an important part of understanding.

So, thank you for being patient and reading through my analogy. If you have been patient enough in your life and have gathered much understanding my analogy might make sense to you.

There are many of us who rush into things and grasp at the bright lights and good-looking objects of this world. Those who are not patient will put the money that they do not have into things that will not last. Fancy clothes. Fancy cars. Fancy boyfriends or girlfriends. Sometimes we get frustrated when we get stuck with the puzzle part that has the expansive field of grass. So plain and difficult to compile BUT admittedly when the whole puzzle is done and completed. All things coming together, the field of green grass lays in stark contrast to the pink, orange, red, yellow, and blue hues of the sky. If we are patient with solving the puzzle of our lives instead of desperately clutching at everything deceptively beautiful, we realize that the true beauty of the puzzle is not the amount of bright pieces in it, but the harmony in which all pieces work together in order to make a masterpiece. 

Some rights reserved by Andrew Gibson.