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The G word

The G word

 

Grace.  There, I said it.  I don’t practice it.  I should – if I’m a “good” Christian I should be trying to show grace a lot more than I do.  But people are stupid, and I’m really sick of dealing with stupid people.  Last week, I laid into somebody.  They’d had it coming for at least eight years.  I was done.  There were other people getting hurt, children were getting hurt, and I just let it fly.  Actually, I didn’t let it fly – I thought I held my tongue pretty well for me.  I spoke the truth but it was hurtful.  I was not filled with anger, rage, malice, or spite.  I really wasn’t.  I thought specifically about what I was going to say for at least 30 minutes before calling.  I knew what I wasn’t going to bring up, and I stuck with it.  It was a six minute conversation.  When I was done, I felt great.  I also felt like the person had heard me, really heard me, and would think about what I had said.  

 

WRONG

 

The facebook posts starting flying from my “victim.”  It seems I was now part of the “enemy’s plan” and the devil was on their doorstep.  Hmm….  you put children at risk and this is what I am?  OK.  I’m good with that.  I knew, however, that this would be the “victim’s” excuse to NOT do what was right.  Yep.  Here we go.  Man, I gave her a great excuse:  “I was going to do right by my children but because she was MEAN to me, so now I’m not.”  You GO Victim!  You keep doing (or not doing) what you’ve been doing for a decade.  You are AWESOME. 

 

MEAN.   Seriously?  What kind of adult says that?  “She was mean to me.”  No kidding.  You bet your ASS I was mean to you.  You are a MESS.  I’ll pay for your damn Prozac if you will take it!   You wanna see mean?  LET’S GO. 

 

Oh wait – did I mention something about grace?   Oh crap I did.  What the heck…   Grace?  For HER?   No freaking way.  I’d rather spit on her.  J Oh wait.  Seems like there was this dude on a cross, who got spit on.  Well hell.  Hmm.  I don’t think I want to talk about hell.  

 

Now what?  I don’t know.  There is some satisfaction that while I am not going to get what I want, at least one of the two kids knows this chick is a whack job.  The other one is beginning to see the light.  NO, not by me!  They are just “of the age.”  But back to this grace thing.  I think I’m kinda late.  As this mess unfolds, however, maybe I can bite my tongue for another eight years.  I have to remember she is their mother.  While I stand by my title of “whack job” for her, I also know she is a mess and I need to show a little grace.  

 

I’m going for one year.  You know I have a countdown on my phone for this, right?  There’s an app for that!  One day at a time, baby, one day at a time.  I hope I have the grace to restart it on day 364.  

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