The Gift of Patience: Stephen Covey

11 November 2005

The article, which I rearranged to some extent, was written by Nelly Favis-Villafuerte in the Manila Bulletin.......

.....“The Gift of Patience”... 

Let me share with you a story that I read about Stephen Covey, the author of the best seller book entitled “Seven Habits of Highly Effective People”. The story is about his experience one Sunday morning while on a subway in New York. 

“The passengers were sitting quietly, napping, reading the newspaper. Some lost in thought. But the peaceful scene changed when a man and his children suddenly boarded. The children were loud and rambunctious, and they disrupted the entire car. The man sat down beside Covey, seemingly oblivious to the situation. The children were yelling, throwing things, and even grabbing people’s papers. It was very disturbing and yet the man did nothing. 

Covey fought the feelings of irritation that rose in him, but as the confusion grew worse he finally turned and said, “Sir, your children are really disturbing a lot of people. I wonder if you couldn’t control them a little more.” The man lifted his gaze as if coming to himself, then he said softly, “Oh you’re right. I guess I should do something about it. We just came from the hospital where their mother died about an hour ago. I don’t know what to think. And I guess they don’t know how to handle it either”.

Covey later wrote. “Can you imagine what I felt at that moment? My paradigm shifted. Suddenly I saw things differently, and because I saw differently, I felt differently, I behaved differently. My irritation vanished….my heart was filled with the man’s pain. Feelings of sympathy and compassion flowed freely. Everything changed in an instant.”

There is something that many of us are guilty of. We lack patience. Especially in dealing with other people. At times, we even lack the time to interact with our spouse and children. We are impatient if things are not to our liking. 

We have forgotten the virtue of patience. Restlessness and impatience dominates our lives.. ......

Our basic problem is that we are always in a hurry and have no patience to think or bother to understand about the situation of others..... We expect others to comply with our orders right away..... We want others to answer us fast when we ask them questions....... We are easily irritated, agitated, and provoked by others......

We do not have patience anymore……Everything is urgent….Even with the Lord….

Once in a while we need to remember that the snail did not reach the Ark instantly….. The snail was able to reach and board the Ark of Noah through patience and perseverance.......

Let us keep trying to learn to relax and have more patience with other people…….. The grace of patience does wonders in this age of anxiety......

There are many times when we get mad with other people. Impulsively, many of us write letters seething with resentment and immediately send such letters to the other party...... without thinking...... without waiting for sometime until our anger and resentment subsides.......Only to regret our impulsive action later on...... Here is another story.....

There was a famous writer by the name of Boreham who was irritated by another fellow named Crittingden, who was very outspoken and liberal in uttering critical words. 

One time, the writer was the victim of the critical words of Crittingden. Angered beyond endurance, Boreham wrote a flaming letter designed to sting and rebuke the fellow.

He walked to the mailbox in front of his house to post the letter. He noticed it was a lovely night for a walk so he decided to pass by the mailbox without dropping the letter in, saying to himself, “I’ll mail it on the way back.” 

A quarter mile further on, he met a friend who said: “Poor Crittingden is dead.”

Boreham was shocked. “Is he, indeed? When did this happen?”

“Oh, he died suddenly this afternoon. It’s really for the best, you know. He’s had a hard time. You know all about it, I supposed?”

‘No. I don’t.” 

“Oh, I thought everybody knew. He only had two children, a son and a daughter. The son was killed soon after his wife died, and the daughter lost her mind and is in the asylum. Poor old Crittingden never got over it. It soured him.”

Boreham returned to his fireside that night, humbled and ashamed. He tore the letter into small fragments and burned them one by one. And as he kneeled before the blaze, he prayed that he, in the days to come, might find the grace to deal gently and lovingly with difficult people, even as he wished they might have the grace to treat him.