When I was a little kid, my dad explained the power of prayer to me. He said, “When you ask God for something you really, really want, He’ll give you one of three answers: yes, no, or wait.”
And kids? That’s when I became an atheist.
Just kidding. I didn’t apostatize until I was about nineteen, and the decision to leave religion forever had nothing to do with my dad’s words of wisdom.
But at the time my dad told me this story, I was pretty fucking disgruntled. “Wait”? Dafuq kind of answer was “wait” from an all-knowing, benevolent, magical guidance counselor in the sky? “Wait” was not in my eight-year-old vocabulary and I was damned if I was going to be patient for anything.
But with the perspective and wisdom of years, I now have good reason to embrace this concept of waiting, of being patient for the things I want.
My dad thought he was teaching me about faith and adult-level patience and serenity and shit. But what he really taught me about was far more interesting: