My Daughter Tried to Keep Me Out of the Lake House I Built, But When She Arrived for the Fourth of July, I Had Already Made Room

more reliably than prayer: patience. Stir slow. Wait. Let things become what they are on their own time. Don’t rush the broth. Don’t force the rise. Don’t pull bread from the oven before it’s ready just because you’re tired of waiting.

I had spent most of my life believing patience was a virtue.

That Tuesday evening, I began to understand it could also continue reading …