The dreaded p word

Contemplated how much to share, but my pain has me thinking. Thinking is not a good thing for me. My pain has me in a state of what ifs. What if I don't find the "One"?  What if I'm unlovable?  Should I continue.  This sounds like a pity party, I'm well aware. This brings me to yesterday. In a local dining establishment getting an ice cream cone when small chit chat would knock me off my high horse. There was a wise African American male who let me go in front of him to order or so I thought. It turns out he was just waiting for his food. We got into a conversation about patience. The dreaded p word.  He said we have a problem with it because its not being taught. I told him I didn't have a good relationship with it. I'm always trying to get out of the way. He said I was fine. The problem was that "God would give us all we need."  I said not all we want. "He said that God never said life would be a rosy bush, but we would be merciful to give you the desires of your hearts".  I started complaining about my weekend, and how people had wronged me.  He stopped me mid sentence. He said my problem wasn't people, but my faith. Talk about being humbled. I wanted to respond, but knew I couldn't. The truth stung.   As someone who writes about faith often, I got a lesson in action. My life has to be a demonstration in faith, active, living faith. I was never more in awe how God could use an ice cream cone, my own words and this man in serving something I don't think I'll forget.