I'm sure I'm not the first person to pray for patience. To pray for perseverance. To pray for the betterment of myself and all those around me. It would hardly make me unique. I remember I'd pray to be more God-like when I was a teenager. I'd pray for the whole package, spirituality, godliness, whatever you'd like to call it. I giggle to myself just writing that.

Fast-forward some six or seven years later, and I found myself doing the same thing. Praying for the exact, same items as when I was 18. Now, you're probably thinking that's not such a bad thing. I suppose in a way it isn't, we strive for consistency in our ever-turbulent world and quickly learn as young adults that employers, parents, etc. like consistency in our actions. It is good to be predictable.

Enter God, the most unpredictable and most wonderful force in our universe. Whoa, unpredictable? If anything, God is steadfast, ever-present, and never-changing, right? Well, yes, but that doesn't we as mere human beings can understand his vast knowledge and his innumerable lessons.

I had a personal lesson just weeks ago. I've recently started riding my bike to and from work (yay exercise!) and have to make the terrifying cross across Royal Gorge Blvd. at 9th Street twice a day. Now, if anyone else has ever had to cross at that particular intersection, you can surely attest to my inner dread at reaching it. The first time, I seriously considered whether or not I should have put together a Last Will and Testament with Zachary beforehand.

Anyways, I digress. I was waiting patiently one afternoon after a long (looooooooong) day at work for the light to turn and for my handy-dandy white crosswalk light to turn on. Per usual, the light turned red, and my beloved crosswalk sign indicated it was "safe" for me to cross. I hopped on my bike and cautiously nosed into the intersection.

Before I knew it, there was a white suburban with an irate driver shoved right in my face. The driver quite unceremoniously decided to flip me a well-practiced finger and scream, "What are you doing?!"

My inner fire ignited and I found myself pointing, quite aggressively, to the white cross-walk sign. I cruised by the suburban as the driver's eyes darted to the sign I indicated. An uncomfortable combination of smugness and irritation wrestled in my stomach as I continued on my way up to 9th Street.

Cars streaked by me as I grumbled to myself, "What was that lady thinking? I was just crossing at the right time to (hopefully) avoid getting hit. I wasn't hurting her by crossing when I did."

I continued on my way when I suddenly remembered what I'd prayed for the night before. That's right, understanding. I had to physically stop my bike and lean on the handlebars as my adamant failure washed over me like a persistent tide.

God had given me a perfect opportunity to be understanding, to be patient when I was confronted by that irate driver. Instead, I decided to respond with momentary irritation and anger. Normally I would have attributed that to the fact that I'm human and even I, a Christian woman, am susceptible to imperfections (I realize you're reading this, so I have to tell you that I wrote that sentence with glaring sarcasm).

The fact was, however, that I had prayed for understanding the night before. I prayed for understanding of the people around me and how, even though I may not know their life stories, I could take whatever may come at me with a grain of salt. I had failed on a grand and momentous scale.

But then I started thinking to myself; I hadn't understood what I asked God for. I had prayed for understanding, but only on a surface level. I wanted to be given the gift of understanding rather than studying and refining my knowledge of the topic. God taught me a valuable lesson by helping me understand that he won't magically give us such profound gifts as love, kindness, understanding, etc. God can do anything he wants, but it means more to his children when we understand exactly what he is gifting us.

He gave me an opportunity to be understanding in the face of anger and resentment. He pushed me to be more than I was but I glazed right over it like it wasn't even there. I wonder how often I do that and it makes me cringe.

God is an Almighty Father; he is THE Almighty Father. And the thing about fathers is that they like to push their children to be better. They want the best for their children and, sometimes, that means putting them in situations they dislike--maybe even hate.

God put me in a position that I hated, and I chose to ignore his call--but you can bet I'll be more vigilant next time I'm crossing that road. I suppose that's what I love about having a father as mighty as God, he'll always be the one to push me to be better but will love me even when I fail.