As she went on and on and on in her thick English I thought to myself (it was a very one-sided conversation so I didn't need to worry about responding) hmm....what happened to her today? Missed her cup of coffee? Tuk-tuk splash her on the way to work? Ingrown toenail (those really hurt)? Pining for her mother country (don't we all do that here?)? Or was it really me, all me, that was causing this angst? I still don't know.
At the end of the rant, as my eyes were glazing over, I prepared myself to sign at the X of any document declaring me an incompetent mother void of any knowledge and ability to raise my child and therefore handing her (or maybe them) over to the state (what state? I don't know. Are you confused? I was too.)
No really, it didn't go that far. But let me tell you this. I WILL NEVER MISS ONE AGAIN. Apparently the trauma that I am causing my child by getting her vaccination in this late stage (11 months old) of her life will result in a never-diminishing fear of the doctor's office for the rest of her life. That was just one reason.
I headed home from the office, duly chastised, with a screaming child in the backseat, and caught my breath. Wow.
I think the last time I was on the receiving end of something like that was when I raided my sister's closet in high school, "borrowed" her nylons, her precious Vanilla Fields perfume, and other highly prized items. I really deserved it and probably then some (I was a horrible younger sister but thankfully my sister is very gracious!)
I meandered through the crowded streets and wondered. Words are powerful, tone is powerful. How am I using them? It's sure not fun being on the receiving end, I'd forgotten that...it had been a long time. Instead of feeling righteous indignation (which had started to swell up, let me assure you) I felt the prick of conscience reminding me of harsh words from me.
Little things. I remembered the morning. A little girl doing everything but brush her teeth. A little boy outside in his diaper throwing shoes (yet again) in the fishpond. Late for school. Impatience. Frustration. Harsh words. Teach, guide, be a shepherd, be firm. Love.
My mind continued to play the scenes before me and by the time I reached home my own harsh words were so glaring I could hardly see the doctor incident anymore.
Of course I did replay it for Darryl once I got home. He listened with a slightly amused smile.
It seems that God is always using these everyday happenings, even the not-so-pleasant ones, to teach me. Turning the mirror around and pointing it back at me. Peeling back the layers. Painful. Exposing.
Psalm 19:14 Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength, and my redeemer.
Psalm 64:3 Who whet their tongue like a sword, and bend their bows to shoot their arrows, even bitter words.
Ecclesiates 10:12 The words of a wise man's mouth are gracious; but the lips of a fool will swallow up himself.