Delayed Gratification

My mother had a thing about “delayed gratification.” If she saw me, one of my siblings, or one of our children demonstrating delayed gratification (like saving the best for last, or doing something they liked the least first), it made her very happy. Mom thought learning delayed gratification was very important for good child development. (And she was right, of course.)

One time, my granddaughters—sisters—were eating mint chocolate chip ice cream, and the younger sister noticed the older one was saving the chocolate chips to eat at the end. She said, “Don’t you like the chocolate seeds?” It’s become a beloved family story. My mom would have loved it.

Mom herself sometimes carried the concept too far—or we thought so anyway. For example, she cut baked goods very small so you could have two brownies, not just one (maybe not exactly delayed gratification but adjacent to it). Or she would put half of whatever treat you brought into the freezer so you could have more later. Or when we were making plans, she would want to be sure to only plan one fun thing a day so you could spread out the good times.

Anyway, I saw this quote today and thought of the concept of delayed gratification in a broad, lifelong way:

Aging requires many sacrifices of present pleasures for future benefit, though the benefit may be nothing more than buying time. —Gayle Green in “Oldster.”

One of my favorite lines is, “Life is difficult,” the first sentence of the book The Road Less Traveled by M. Scott Peck. I quote it to remind myself (and others, perhaps ad nauseum) that we should expect life to be difficult and when it’s not difficult for any length of time—bonus!

One of the things that makes life difficult is what the above quote talks about. Rather than “Aging,” I think we can say “Life.” Life requires many sacrifices of present pleasures for future benefit.

I wrote one time about thinking of my future self by name, like “Nighttime Mavis” and “Morning Mavis.” There’s also “In-her-twenties Mavis,” “In-her-fifties Mavis,” and “Old Mavis.” Sometimes I need to sacrifice something for the “Years-From-Now Mavis.” And often I also need to make that sacrifice for other people, too—the loved ones who would like me to be with them, or maybe even need me to be with them.

Anyone reading this knows that. You don’t need me to tell you it’s hard. I guess I’m just writing it to be empathetic, to remind you you’re not alone, and to let you know I’m praying for you to have the strength, courage, and patience to know in your heart, not just your head, that God is with you every step of the way.