Patience
Written by Emma McCoy
3 minute read
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Hey everyone! Welcome back to a fun and fictional blog series for the next chunk of time. In this series, I’ll be writing fictional short stories following various familiar characters as they try to walk along the faithful path.
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The point of these short stories is to illustrate our big idea: Jesus grows our hope through uncommon friends. But in order to get to this big idea, we first need some scaffolding. Think of these stories like handholds as we’re climbing toward our big idea. A lot of the time, stories that demonstrate an idea are more helpful than just talking about it, so that’s where the fiction comes in. And the handhold (also called an outcome, or learning target) I’m focusing on in this series is this:
We notice and name signs of hope, and learn to receive it too.
If I could put a huge neon sign around that, I would. In this season at Spring Church, we’re going to be using the language of the fruits of the Spirit (like joy, patience, and faithfulness) as we recognize these gifts in our friends. So follow along these stories as I illustrate what it might look like to notice and name these good things in our friends, and how the naming can give us hope. See if you can spot the fruit of the Spirit that comes up!
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We notice and name signs of hope, and learn to receive it too.
If I could put a huge neon sign around that, I would. In this season at Spring Church, we’re going to be using the language of the fruits of the Spirit (like joy, patience, and faithfulness) as we recognize these gifts in our friends. So follow along these stories as I illustrate what it might look like to notice and name these good things in our friends, and how the naming can give us hope. See if you can spot the fruit of the Spirit that comes up!
You can listen to this story narrated like an audiobook on your favorite podcast app!
Patience
A story about a friend who helps you keep going when you want to quit
At this point, Candy barely registered the store music anymore. It was always, without fail, the assistant manager’s playlist of whatever bland pop music was popular: boys crooning about girls who wouldn’t text them back, girls wailing about being heartbroken, and the occasional fast-paced song bragging about how much money the singer had. Whatever. If it wasn’t something decent, like Pearl Jam, Candy didn’t want to hear it. And after six months at the mega-store she could tune out the music without even trying.
It was harder to tune out Nina.
“See, what you did is exited out of ‘Customer Transaction’ and pulled up ‘Initiate a Return,’” the older woman said, leaning on her cane.
“Then why is the exit button so close to the receipt button!” Candy complained.
“You just have to go a bit slower,” Nina said. “Now, pull up ‘Customer Transaction’ again and you’ll be fine.”
Candy huffed as Nina limped away to her own cashier station. She finished checking out her customer—forgetting the receipt entirely—and waited for the next one. Tuesdays were always a bit slow, which meant Nina could help her out easier. Candy brushed her bleached hair behind her ears, hardly noticing she was doing it. Why had Nina, who was like, a million years old, figured out this check-out stuff faster than her? She hadn’t even gone to college, while Candy had done half a semester. Admittedly, she’d dropped out when her heroin habit became a bit more than a habit, but still. She was only twenty-two, and if working at the mega-store while living at the Center wasn’t glamorous, it was something. And work was something to do to distract her.
On her lunch break, she tried to clock out, but kept getting the error message again.
“Damn it!” she tried again, but the screen just kept flashing red. Why couldn’t she do one day, just one day, where everything went right? Didn’t she deserve to eat a Pop-Tart after working five hours?
“Here,” Nina said, somewhere by her elbow, “I’ll help.”
Nina punched buttons on the screen, remarkably adept. When Candy had first showed up at the Center, courtesy of the court that had suggested she better get clean if she wanted custody of her son Brayden, she hadn’t thought much of the woman. She was like, pretty old, and mostly kept to herself. She never would have guessed that they’d be working together, and she’d be schooled, day after day.
Well, not schooled. Nina never bragged, and she never seemed to get tired of helping her. Candy’s father sure had, and her ex, and her friends. But not Nina. Though Nina was getting the clean version of her, who didn’t throw sharp objects and disappear for weeks at a time. No, this version had shaky hands and woke up gasping in the night.
“Thanks,” Candy said, her eyes on the floor.
“No problem,” Nina replied, grunting as she caned back to her seat. Candy sat across from her and she looked up, a little surprised. They never sat together at lunch.
“Actually,” Candy said slowly, the words tasting odd in her mouth, “I want to say thank you, like for real. You always help me because I’m no good at this job. For no reason. You’re patient with me. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Nina replied gruffly. “It’s no small thing, losing a child. Just getting up in the morning is a full-time job.”
Candy nearly asked if Nina knew—like, knew—but didn’t. They were both at the Center, and weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. At least, she hoped. She bit into her cold Pop-Tart. Blueberry, Brayden’s favorite. She fought back tears, but somehow, sitting with Nina made it easier.nd necklaces in Angelina’s booth. They shone.
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About the author
Spring Church member, Emma McCoy (M.A.), has two poetry books: This Voice Has an Echo (2024) and In Case I Live Forever (2022). She’s been published in places like Across the Margin, Stirring Literary, and Thimble Mag. She reads for Chestnut Review and Whale Road Review. She’s probably working on her novel right now. Catch her on Substack: https://poetrybyemma.substack.com/