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Petulant ponderings

I've been in a bad mood.

Dear Husband is out of town and I've been doing a one-woman show at home.  The reviews are in:  this show is gonna close soon. 

The first few days of my husband's absense are (don't tell him) a bit of a treat.  I get the whole bed to myself, don't have to make conversation after a long day, don't have to make regular meals.  The kids enjoy the break in routine.  And then...it gets old...fast. 

There is a reason God designated two parents for a child, and I think it essentially has to do with the rate of homicide (just kidding).  Really, after about four days of single-parenting, we all get sick of each other, and I don't have anyone to "trade off with".

On top of that, my fellow castmates in this show are all teens, and are - shall we say - lazy.  They don't want to do any chores, and then I feel put out.  I'm the nag, the housekeeper, the chaffeur...everything.  And I get petulant.

Today's Gospel was Jesus trying to get some breathing space.  He had his disciples procur a boat so He wouldn't get crushed by the crowds - people clambering for just a touch, a word, to be close to Him.  It must have been overwhelming and claustrophobic, but there is no word that Jesus got mad.  He didn't get grumpy or upset.  He just looked for another way to do things.

Clearly, I am not He. However, I am supposed to be like Him, and this week hasn't been my best effort.  Time to stop being petulant and start looking for my "boat":  another way to do things that isn't hurtful or mean-spirited.  I'm heading for calmer water.

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Crossing Guard

I saw you
today
as you guided
your little man across that busy street.

You were wearing some
big man boots
and
watching cars and lights.

Your little man had on
black sneakers and
a Mickey Mouse hat
that bounced
as he walked.

He wasn't watching nothing but
your big man boots
and
the white stripes of the crosswalk.

Just before
he got to the sidewalk again,
his step bounced a bit
- he hopped over
a spot where the asphalt broke.

You turned to look,
holding out a hand to
your little man.
Not rushed or angry,
just making sure
he got up
on that sidewalk.

Then you walked on,
in your big man boots,
face into a cold Michigan wind,
with the little man behind,
his hat bouncing.