When Patience And Grace Fly Out The Window

I try to be a patient and grace-filled person. Really. I do. And for the most part, having become a believer of compassion as shared humanity, I do a pretty good job with it. I try to “be kind, for each of us is fighting a great battle.” I try to breathe in when I feel frustrated and breathe out the calm that I desire. I try to remain mindful of the fact that I am not the only person in the world feeling what I am feeling (nor will I ever be), and I try to breathe out peace for other persons feeling frustration, stress, fear, hurt, confusion, betrayal, loss, or whatever the emotion may be. I even try to do this with happy emotions—breathing out prayers for continued joy.

Yet there are moments—boy are there moments—when patience and grace fly out the window and bitter words fly out of my mouth faster than unsecured trash flies out of the back of a truck...or else they build up behind clinched jaw with such intensity that my head begins to hurt…

One of my favorite lessons to teach is a lesson based on a musical version of The Little Red Hen. In case you don’t know the story, here’s a summary: The little red hen wants to make some bread (starting with growing the wheat) but everyone she asks for help refuses. In the end, when the bread comes out of the oven and smells delicious, all of the hen’s friends come running for a taste. “You didn’t help me make the bread,” she says, “so you’re not going to help me eat it.” So she eats it herself.

When I first started teaching this lesson, I wanted the ending to change. I wanted the little red hen to forgive trumpet, flute, clarinet, violin, and trombone and give them bread regardless of their sloth. But she never does. Nor does she forgive cat, dog, hen, duck, rat, pig, or any other character in other versions of the story.

Yet these days, I’m okay with the ending. I’m okay with the fact that the characters get what they deserve in proportion to their efforts. I've learned all too well that we must sometimes suffer the consequences of our actions.

But I've also learning something else: I'm okay with the ending because it really bothers me when people do things that do not hold other persons in regards. And the little red hen's friends did not hold her need in regards.

It bothers me when people:

Refuse to help someone who obviously needs help.
Use something that belongs to someone else—without permission—and then does not put it back from where it came.
Laugh at someone with disabilities.
Make a mess and leave it for someone else to cleanup.
Take for granted simple gifts and acts of service.
Say that they will do something but not do it.

Like I said. I try to be patient and grace-filled. But sometimes things get to me. And surprisingly enough--thanks to the little red hen--I now know what those things are: people not holding others in regards.

For the times when I do not hold others in regards, oh God, forgive me.
And for the times when I lose my temper and act out of anything other than Love, forgive me as well.
Forgive us, oh God, we pray.
Amen.