My mom recently wrote of her hurt feelings about getting word that her letters are not appreciated in the way they are intended. I know she uses them as her journal and she records her feelings as they are. This blog has a similar purpose to me. And yet I have offended her in my perceptions and once again, have shown myself ungrateful.
I am upset that I hurt her feelings most of all. And that is what has earned me a seat in the proverbial handbasket that will take me to hell. At least that is the beginning of the end this month.
I have offended some of the ladies at church by speaking my mind without all the niceties and public politeness. While I spoke truth, I also spoke without enough generosity and thoughtfulness. It is something that seems to happen more and more the older I get.
In my current role as relief society president this is a significantly unfortunate since I am supposed to be the one to love and accept each of these ladies as my sisters. This affront will allow me to make my seat selection on the handbasket seating arrangements.
This past week we got word that my former brother in law collapsed from Covid ad was rushed to the hospital locally and is currently in the ICU on a ventilator. My boss walked up behind me reading the obituaries one afternoon at work and I ultimately had to reveal that I was searching for his name and that I has kind of hoped to find it there. While I do love my nephews, and would be sad for their loss if their dad died, I also had a feeling that, finally, karma could have worked her magic in our favor.
If I continue at this rate, I'll have a bench named after me on the highway to hell--handbasket or not. Yet, in the moment the feelings were what I felt, they were not kind and they were not charitable and they weren't thoughtful. And those are the things I SHOULD be seeking to become.
I'd like to promise that I will make things right across the board, but I have learned from past mistakes that words said, or written, or expressed in any way cannot be withdrawn. I have to ask forgiveness and promise to do better. And that promise of doing better is the stickler. I can't seem to curb my tongue or bend my thoughts or even take care of how I am responding to others. Maybe this is why some of my favorite literary characters are those who have the same issues--yet I am not learning to overcome my similar shortcomings by reading of their misadventures.
Practice makes perfect, they say. But imperfect practice just leads to poor performance and bad habits. Let's hope I can get better. It may require divine intervention.
