If I were to list the Fruit of the Spirit starting with the flavor I possess in greatest percentage to least, patience would be a tiny sliver in a squeaky mouse voice at the end of the list. I have prayed for it in increasing measure for years and it's like, "make me patient, already, would you, God?"
Well, somewhat ironically, I think this is a lesson I will continue to learn slowly and with effort for years to come. But every once in a while, the Holy Spirit puts a little dollop of blessing on top of my spiritual fruit plate and things are just easy. Today was like that.
I came home from Mooresville, NC (aka Race City, USA). I drove there yesterday by way of Vidalia, which, due to my circuitous route, took about eight and a half hours. Today was another five hours in the car. Not Kimberly's dream day, nor one that leaves her feeling particularly gracious. Especially when she drives the wrong direction on 321 for thirteen miles. And then putts along behind a pair of semis holding hands while they cruise at 50 for a bit. And then gets caught in the predictable snarl that is metro-Atlanta traffic.
Ah, but while you and I both expected a full on, "I hate all things wheeled" attitude, I, by God's grace and fruit, was like, "bummer, dude." And that was all. No, it wasn't the ideal workday, but all is well.
I just LOVE it when things happen that are so clearly God. Take that flesh. My God's got my back. Thanks, God, for blessing dollops and growing fruit in me by your own power and in your own time. May I be fruitful and plentiful and more consumed by You than ever before.