I haven't been given many things, but I've been given ample

The words of Lincoln Diaz-Balart—“I haven’t been given many things, but I’ve been given ample, limitless patience”—are like a banner held high by one who has known struggle and chosen endurance over despair. They remind us that though fortune may withhold its gifts, though power and wealth may be denied, the possession of patience is itself a treasure greater than gold. For with patience, one may outlast adversity, overcome obstacles, and see fulfilled what others abandoned long before its time.

The origin of this wisdom lies not in ease, but in hardship. Those who are granted every comfort seldom cultivate patience, for they have little need to wait. But those who have been given few things, who have walked in scarcity or endured opposition, learn to cling to patience as a lifeline. For when the world withholds, patience becomes the weapon by which one endures. Diaz-Balart, a man who knew exile, political struggle, and the long labor of building, could rightly say that though his gifts were few, his patience was boundless—and it was enough.

History too confirms this truth. Consider the long journey of Nelson Mandela, who endured twenty-seven years in prison. He was not given freedom, he was not given comfort, and for decades he was not given recognition. Yet what he possessed—limitless patience—sustained him. That patience forged in him the strength to wait without breaking, to hope without surrendering, and when the day of freedom came, to lead with wisdom rather than vengeance. The world often remembers his triumph, but at its heart was the same truth Diaz-Balart declared: patience, though unseen, is the greatest endowment.

Patience is not passive. It is not the mere act of standing still. It is an inner fire that refuses to be extinguished by delay. It is the seed that rests beneath the soil, unseen and forgotten, yet gathering strength until the season is right. The impatient demand fruit before its time and perish of disappointment; the patient wait, and in their waiting reap abundance. To possess patience is to walk through deserts with the assurance that an oasis lies ahead, though it may not yet be seen.

And what is more, patience ennobles the soul. Those who endure with patience are less easily broken by insult, less easily seduced by shortcuts, less easily corrupted by despair. In a world obsessed with haste, to hold patience is to wield a power that others cannot comprehend. For time itself bends to the patient, delivering to them victories denied to the rash. Indeed, when all else fails—when resources are spent, when allies vanish, when strength wanes—patience remains, a final and inexhaustible reserve.

The lesson is this: do not measure your wealth only by what you have been given. Do not envy those who are adorned with gifts of ease and luxury. Instead, measure your strength by the patience you cultivate, for it will carry you further than gold, further than beauty, further than applause. Life may deny you many things, but if you master patience, you possess the one gift that makes all others possible in time.

In practice, begin to see waiting not as an enemy but as a companion. When your goals seem distant, remind yourself that the path of endurance builds strength unseen. When hardships stretch long, remember that each moment of patience is not wasted—it is shaping your spirit into something unshakable. Let others rush and falter; let others demand what cannot yet be had. You, with patience, will endure until the moment is ripe.

So let Diaz-Balart’s words dwell in your heart: “I haven’t been given many things, but I’ve been given ample, limitless patience.” If you possess this, you lack nothing essential. For patience is the root of resilience, the guardian of hope, and the silent force that carries mortals through trial into triumph. And in the end, it may prove to be the greatest gift of all.