Today we're diving into something deceptively simple but deeply transformative.
Patience.
Not just any patience,
But the kind we extend toward ourselves and toward the many parts within us.
Let's start with this.
Healing can't be rushed.
I know,
I've tried.
Maybe you have too.
Especially when I first started doing IFS work.
I had this strong,
Urgent part that wanted everything fixed now.
I have clients that come in with these parts too,
And sometimes it's frustrating to have the patience to slow down,
To build trust with those protectors.
It's not just about being efficient.
Those young parts and those parts of me that were strong and urgent were afraid.
It's hard for them to believe it,
But in moving slower we do move faster.
But you can't see it on the side of that urgency,
And it makes sense that those parts are there.
My urgent part was afraid that if we didn't hurry the pain would never stop.
So it pushed.
It pressured.
Sometimes it even shamed the other parts who were slower or unsure.
What I didn't realize at first is that urgency itself can be a protector.
A manager part trying to prevent us from feeling deeper,
Scarier things like despair or hopelessness.
The kind of things that live in our exiles.
Those younger,
More vulnerable parts that these protectors are protecting.
Sometimes those self-like parts show up too that do have a lot of compassion or patience.
But there's also an agenda behind it,
And those managers are doing the best that they can too.
Sometimes those self-like parts get a bad rap,
But I'm learning to love,
Respect,
And accept them more and more.
My inner world is,
And my parts are too.
But it takes time,
Lots of it,
To learn to pause,
Breathe,
And ask,
What are you afraid will happen if we slow down?
Here's the truth.
Some parts of you will never move faster just because you want them to.
They move at the pace of trust,
And the pace of safety,
At the pace of presence.
And when we can show up with patience over and over again,
That in itself is a big part of the healing.
So let me ask you this,
And it's reflection questions like this that I post in the Faithfully Growing Community where you can engage with others.
Which of your parts feel hurried,
Rushed,
Or left behind?
Which ones are asking for more time,
More gentleness?
And which ones are afraid that if you slow down,
Everything will fall apart?
If it feels like it serves you well,
Take some time with these questions this week.
You know,
One of the biggest shifts in my own life came when I started to see patience,
Not as passivity,
But as a form of love.
Patience says,
I'll stay with you no matter how long it takes.
Let me close with this personal story.
A few months ago,
I was working with a younger part that holds a lot of fear around failure.
Every time I tried to speak to it,
It shut down.
I'd try to re-engage,
Maybe even journal a little bit,
Or meditate.
I'd wait for something profound to happen,
But mostly it felt like silence.
And a part of me got frustrated.
I could feel this critical voice saying,
You should be further along by now.
It's safe now.
Tim's older now.
But that just escalated things.
But then something shifted,
And I continued to shift,
And stopped trying to fix.
And I just sit with these younger parts,
And let them know I'm not going anywhere.
And in the stillness,
Something often softens.
Often my parts,
Particularly in this case,
Don't say anything back,
But I can sense that they hear me.
And that's enough.
A crack of light through the door.
Sometimes patience looks like silence.
Sometimes it looks like repeating yourself gently.
I'm here.
I'm here.
I'm here.
So I invite you to practice patience as a sacred act.
Experiment with that in the days if you want.
Take longer walks.
Journal without needing insight.
Sit with a part again and again,
Even if it never speaks.
Because every act of patience is a step toward inner trust.
