Patience, My Greatest Treasure by Kate Rettig Tysdahl
Be patient, therefore, brothers, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains. (James 5:7)
I tried not to look at the clock. I sat alone in my classroom. It was a teacher workday, but my mind was somewhere else entirely. Had it been two hours yet? Three?
The phone rang. I took a steadying breath.
The nurse sounded cheerful. “Congratulations!” she said.
My hand flew to my mouth. Tears came instantly. Was she giving me further instructions? I heard nothing else. When the call ended, I did something I had never done before — I fell to my knees in joy, in laughter, in disbelief.
I was going to have a son.
It had been three long, agonizing, lonely years.
Of hopefulness. Of dashed hopes.
Of injections, surgeries, and questions I didn’t want to ask – or maybe answer.
Infertility is marked by painful waiting – waiting for healing, outcomes, a miracle. But patience isn’t just about waiting, it’s about presence.
It’s listening.
It’s allowing ourselves to feel every emotion. It’s trusting that even in the silence, God is with you.
For me, patience yielded my greatest treasure in life. Of course, this isn’t true for everyone. James reminds us that the farmer can’t rush the rain or force the harvest. He can only tend the soil. Through the waiting, God waits with us. He grieves with us. He comforts us.
The slow work of patience draws us closer to God. Patience forms us. It softens us. It teaches us to see God—not just in the answer, but in the ache.
We wait for the Lord—not perfectly, not painlessly—but patiently. Together.