This afternoon I saw my upper cervical care doctor. And whereas it took an hour to get there and over two hours to get back (because I kept stopping at antique stores), I was in and out of the office in five minutes. “You look good today,” the doctor said after checking a scan of my neck, “so I’m going to leave you alone.” That’s the deal, he operates by the–if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it–policy. Not that I’ve felt like a million bucks lately. Indeed, my back has been hurting and I’ve been fighting a sinus infection. And I told the doctor this. But he reminded me that just because you feel bad doesn’t mean your body isn’t healing. “You’ve been dealing with a lot of issues for a long time, and it’s just going to TAKE SOME TIME for your body to clean things up.”

Then he added, “For a while, you’ll experience remnants.”

Remnants, what a perfect word for those parts of our past (emotions, patterns, illnesses) that creep up every now and then and threaten to never go away. Yesterday I started painting the inside of some cabinets and cabinet drawers for a friend, and even after two coats of white, the ugly (dirty, filthy, rotten) brown that was there before still peeked out in places. And whereas I was tempted to think I’ll never get things how I want them, experience has taught me the value of persistence. So this evening I returned and applied a third coat. Now we’re talking, I thought as I rolled over the previous two layers of white. Hasta la vista, ugly (dirty, filthy, rotten) brown.

Persistence, that’s one of the things I’ve been thinking about tonight. The idea that if you just keep at something, eventually you’ll have a breakthrough (or a breakdown). Not that you should go barking up the wrong tree (you’re not gonna turn a homo straight, ladies). Pick your battles, know when you’re licked, and all that. But more and more I’m convinced that we don’t experience success in learning, dancing, remodeling, healing, and even praying simply because we quit trying. Because we give up. Because we think, This is going nowhere, and throw in the towel. Earlier this week I was thinking maybe I’ll just have to deal with sinus infections for the rest of my life, and my mom (randomly) mentioned a product I haven’t tried before, something she read about on her Facebook feed. Now, will it help? Hell if I know. It hasn’t even arrived yet. But the important thing is that I’ve decided to give it a whirl.

In this, there is hope.

Of course, all these things I’ve touched on–healing, persistence, and hope–require patience. Ah, there’s the rub. For anything that takes time (and what doesn’t?), we have to be willing to wait for it. Better said, we have to be willing to endure, to trust that things are going to work out. I think about the way a blade of grass can push itself through concrete, the way running water can make a rough stone smooth–given enough time. Most of us look at the mountains in our lives and think, Impossible. I could never get that thing to move. But not the rain. Knowing the power of persistence, it thinks, Just you wait, mountain. Give me enough time, and I’ll wear you down. Indeed, I’ll throw you into the sea. There won’t be a remnant left.