Old Age

If God loves me, and I know He does, I will be living to a ripe old age. I know this because of a poster I saw once, "Everything I ever needed to know I learned in Kindergarten". Sure, I learned to share, color in the lines, hands are for helping, not hurting; criss-cross apple sauce, hands in your lap.....but the poster left out some things...

There are 9 Fruit of the Spirit listed in Galatians 5:22-23, "²²But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, ²³ gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.". Of these 9, I totally get joy, I have felt love, I have seen goodness, and I understand peace because I long for it...as for the rest, well, I have failed the test.

Patience- the one everyone jokes about, the one they say NOT to pray for, the thorn in my side, will be the reason I might live 834 years. I picked that number because I am thinking that by then I will be so wise, deaf, and blind that nothing could make me impatient! "I can't hear you!", I will say. "I can't see you!", I will say...or I will be so wise, "It takes 3 licks to get to the center of a Tootsie-Pop", I will expound.

It's either live that long, or maybe I should do the hard thing and just buckle down, slow down and try to be more patient. But what fun is there in not breaking loose with a good old-fashioned fit? I mean, I feel so June Cleaver-ish when I get down on one knee and calmly discuss an issue with Llama. Sometimes I just want to stop my feet, point my finger and yell at her like she does me. What's wrong with that? Why can't I stick my tongue out and blow?

Sigh. I know, "it might feel good at the time, but you will regret it later". I know. I know. I know. Being the adult STINKS sometimes. OK, so maybe I do try to be patient more than I thought...Maybe I am helping my children grow into marvelous people by bending down on that knee. Poo. I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to....(to be continued)