Patience

There are many things I'd like to change about the way I raised my kids.

I'd like to take back the time I smacked Wendy for doing something to her brother in the store. My sister bought her a Pink Panther mug that today serves as a reminder that I was quick to judge and punish.

I'd like to take back the time I attacked Johnson with a wooden spoon. Lord only knows what he did to drive me to the point of madness. I stopped myself before I really got going, but I'll never forget the look on his face.

I'd like to take back the time I told two little kids who were excited about Christmas coming that Santa had had a heart attack and wouldn't be coming that year. God God, was I the devil incarnate or what?

And I'd like to take back the many times when I was in a hurry to go somewhere or do something and I rushed the kids into the car, without giving a thought to their needs or desires. Forget tying shoes at a snail's pace. Forget looking for worms on the way to the car. Forget splashing in a puddle or reading the last page of a good book or grabbing a snack. Get in the car NOW, because I SAID SO.

You'd think if I feel so bad about hurrying my kids along, that I'd have more patience with my father moves slower than sap dripping out of a tree on a cold day.

We were supposed to be somewhere half an hour ago. There is a lady standing on the sidewalk waiting for us. Dad drove by me in his cart and I haven't seen him since. I did go back to check on him. He was sitting on the toilet doing something with his checkbook. I decided to back away and let him alone. I couldn't get into the bathroom to help him up, even if I wanted to. The cart is blocking the doorway. I feel a little frazzled. I feel like screaming. But what's the point?

I have got to quit being in a hurry. That's all there is to it. I think I'll go find a puddle to play in while I wait.

Today's wish for you is patience,

Merry ME