Perspective
So last night was the Fall Festival at our church. For the first time in several years we did not go. We had a busy weekend - Bryon and Jake were gone most of it for a Y Guides camp out - so I decided we weren't going. I was surprised at how well everyone took the news. Until ...
We went to church choir and Abby realized all her church choir mates were coming to choir practice in costume. I was supposed to be in another choir room and she was crying and clinging and begging to go home and put on a costume. She even asked one of the choir teachers if she had extra costumes.
And instead of being compassionate or patient, I was frustrated with her. In my defense there really was nothing I could do, but that didn't make her feel any better. She did calm down after a few minutes and join her choir, but I think this is one of those memories that will stick with her. Maybe not all the details but the high points. "Remember that one time we were going to a Halloween party and you didn't bring my costume?" she'll ask me.
At dinner I was feeling very remorseful. "I'm sorry I didn't have your costume for choir practice. I know you were upset, but I'm glad you decided to join your choir, even if you weren't wearing your costume. I think you made a good choice. Don't you think so too?"
"Yes, you said it correctly," she said. (Her 'correct' use of 'correctly' made it even more sweet.)
Even though the situation seemed resolved by bedtime I sat in bed late last night feeling awfully guilty and remorseful. So Abby ... if you ever read this ... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't bring your costume. I'm sorry I was impatient with you. I should've sat you in my lap and waited until you felt better, stronger, to go into a room where everyone was dressed up but you. I shouldn't have chastised you for the way you acted. Should've. Should've. Should've.
We went to church choir and Abby realized all her church choir mates were coming to choir practice in costume. I was supposed to be in another choir room and she was crying and clinging and begging to go home and put on a costume. She even asked one of the choir teachers if she had extra costumes.
And instead of being compassionate or patient, I was frustrated with her. In my defense there really was nothing I could do, but that didn't make her feel any better. She did calm down after a few minutes and join her choir, but I think this is one of those memories that will stick with her. Maybe not all the details but the high points. "Remember that one time we were going to a Halloween party and you didn't bring my costume?" she'll ask me.
At dinner I was feeling very remorseful. "I'm sorry I didn't have your costume for choir practice. I know you were upset, but I'm glad you decided to join your choir, even if you weren't wearing your costume. I think you made a good choice. Don't you think so too?"
"Yes, you said it correctly," she said. (Her 'correct' use of 'correctly' made it even more sweet.)
Even though the situation seemed resolved by bedtime I sat in bed late last night feeling awfully guilty and remorseful. So Abby ... if you ever read this ... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't bring your costume. I'm sorry I was impatient with you. I should've sat you in my lap and waited until you felt better, stronger, to go into a room where everyone was dressed up but you. I shouldn't have chastised you for the way you acted. Should've. Should've. Should've.
posted by Romine Family at 10:02 AM
