When I was probably around eleven our family made a trip to Penn. (God's country), in our remodeled school bus that had a queen size bed in back for Mom & Dad, and two bunk beds on either side, then as you walked forward a gas oven on the left and a booth of two bus seats facing each other with table, and finally a big water tank on the right before you went out the front door.

So on our way back we stopped at Aunt Birdie's place and my cousin Roger gave me his BUGLE that he no longer used.  I tried to play that BUGLE off and on all those 800 miles back from Akron, Ohio.  At first it was a terrible sound, and my sisters gave it a try and they weren't any better.  My parents were patient and said let Ronnie try to learn to play it.  In the dream I had of this last night, I got to thinking how patient my folks had been with me on that 800 mile stretch from Akron back to Nemaha, and how many times they had let me “practice” on the BUGLE until even I was ready to lay it aside on my bunk bed.  I think my parents were too patient with me.

Here is an article on the gift of Patience which may be right on time for some of us.

https://www.singlematters.com/the-gift-of-patience

The Day of the Lord