I'm very caring with animals. I think patience is a big deal

Jennifer Love Hewitt, with tenderness in her heart, once declared: “I’m very caring with animals. I think patience is a big deal, because animals are always jumping around. I love to take care of people, so I think I’d be a good vet. I always wanted to be a vet when I was little.” These words, though spoken with simplicity, shine with timeless truth: that to care for the weak, the restless, and the vulnerable is among the highest callings, and that patience is the sacred thread that binds love to action.

The ancients knew this truth well. They told stories of shepherds who watched over their flocks, not merely as possessions but as living beings entrusted to their care. The good shepherd was praised not for his wealth, but for his patience, for waiting while sheep strayed, for protecting them from wolves, for carrying the injured upon his shoulders. So too does Hewitt see in herself the heart of a caretaker, one who could have been a vet, not for glory but for the joy of serving life itself.

Her words also reveal a wisdom about animals, whose nature is wild, unbounded by human discipline. They leap, they wander, they resist. To impose control with anger is to fail them; to guide with gentleness is to honor them. Hewitt reminds us that only patience can bridge the gap between human and creature, allowing love to become a language both understand. In this way, she touches upon a universal law: that true care—whether of animals or people—requires more than affection; it requires endurance, humility, and time.

History gives us a noble example in the life of Saint Francis of Assisi. He was known not only for his devotion to God but also for his deep caring for animals. Birds gathered around him, wolves obeyed his voice, and he treated all creatures as brothers and sisters. What was his secret? Not power, but patience, the willingness to meet them where they were, to speak with kindness, and to listen with love. His life reveals the same spirit Hewitt describes: that the path of a true healer is walked with gentleness and respect for all living things.

Hewitt’s reflection also touches on the broader calling of serving people. She admits her joy in taking care of others, showing that the same patience required for animals is also the foundation of human compassion. Children, like young animals, are restless. The sick, like wounded creatures, can be fearful or irritable. To care for them requires not only skill but a calm heart that does not grow weary when others are difficult. Here lies the strength of the healer: to remain steady in love, even when the world leaps and resists around them.

The origin of her words lies in childhood dreams—her desire to be a vet when she was little. This reveals another truth: that often the seeds of our deepest virtues are planted in youth. Though she became an actress, her words show that the impulse to heal, to nurture, to guide, has never left her. The dream of a child reflects the purity of the soul before it is shaped by worldly ambition. To remember such dreams is to remember who we are at our core.

So, dear listener, take this lesson into your own life: cultivate caring, practice patience, and honor the restless and the vulnerable, whether they be animals or people. Do not despise small acts of care, for in them lies great strength. When others leap in confusion, be the calm hand. When they stray, be the watchful guide. And never forget the dreams of your youth, for they often reveal the truest calling of your heart. To care, to be patient, to serve—these are the marks of a life well lived.