Counting to ten

Okay, I have a nasty temper. Everyone knows it. Granted it's a kind of selective nastiness. Some folks can do no wrong -- no matter how creepily they behave-- because they're my friends. Other folks can do nothing right because --honestly-- I find them judgmental and insensitive. Yep, that's my worse failing. I'm very short-tempered and I'm especially judgmental with judgmental folks.

I was at the movie theater with my friend, Rain -- who is Muslim-American -- and some guy behind us got an attitude. I got up in the middle of the film and totally turned him off than sat back down. Okay, I can do this kinda thing because my friend owned the local arthouse...but honestly, I would've done it if my friend didn't. Some folks just set me off. And it's like wildfire. I lack all sense of patience with them.

So now, here I am counting to ten. Why? Because I'm seriously p*ssed at local cops. But that's another story. Cops are seriously out of control anyway. The problem is me. I seriously do NOT mind being an angry person who flies off the handle. How, then, am I to change a vice I'm not particularly angry about. I don't consider it a virtue but honestly, I don't see anything particularly wrong with it. My friends love me, so what do I care if folks I don't respect dislike me?

Alas, Carole! Alack, Carole! So, you intend to go into heaven with this nasty hair-trigger temper you fall into whenever you have to deal with some jerk?

Timing, fate, fortune, luck

Older son came home from work last night all-a tremble. "Mom," he says, "you've got to ease my mind about something that happened this morning in school. I've been thinking about it...all day."

Turns out he got an award at school and later there was a talent show and he got one of the last tickets although the show had only fifteen minutes to go. So he figured, why not? So in he goes. And turns out there's a raffle with the tickets. The raffler-picker (or whatever you call her) dipped her hand into the box and took out a ticket, called a number. Waited. Repeated number. Person wasn't there. Took out another ticket. Called a number. Waited. Repeated number. Person wasn't there. Took out another ticket. Son heard all the numbers on his ticket being read except the last one. He wondered if he should walk the long road ahead to claim the prize. What if he was an idiot, etc? Folks upfront might laugh at him. Raffler repeated number again. Yep, it was his number. He had won $200. And we really coulda used the money. But he was afraid of walking upfront but was still nervous...and just couldn't do it. Some guys who disliked him were upfront and none of his friends were around. As he pondered whether he should go or not, the raffler-picker lady called out a new name. He let the money go. He was existentialistically-stressed about it all day. Why had such a thing happened? Had he been an idiot? Was this just bad luck dogging his steps?

It reminded me of another time when some weirdo technical glitch happened with my phone just when I was about to win a radio program giveaway.

The kid was so weirded out I had to say...

Well son remember when my friend the singer always bought a lotto ticket and the one night she didn't buy the ticket was the night she won. Remember? She said everything kept telling her to buy the ticket as she usually did and when night fell she kept thinking, "did I forget to do what I was supposed to do?" Then the next morning she was sooo nauseated when she saw the numbers and realized they were her numbers? And she was in bed for a week. Son, maybe God made her not buy that lottery ticket. All the bad family issues that pop up with winning lottery tickets. And it's possible that if you had taken the winning money those weirdo enemies of yours might have jumped you and taken the money. Maybe God protected you.

I said, "yes, maybe it's not that you weren't listening to God but that you were."
"Yes," he said, "and none of my friends were there to walk with me back to my car."
Ah, the things we moms have to do. Am not sure if I said all this to ease his spirit...or if I really believed it. But it gave him peace.

Well, okay, the same weirdo thing kinda happened to me today. I'm home all day and made absolutely no phone call. And the very moment I made the phone call....wouldn't you know..an important call came in.

This kind of stuff happens not always..but often enough to make one really ponder what exactly luck is...and what fortune--misfortune...or God's timing is. I just have to decide that my times are in God's hand.

Rubber hitting the road II

Okay, I am TRYING my best to be a good Christian and all but I really have to decide about getting rid of certain stuff in my house. Not my stuff mind you. Some of these "things" have a place in my heart. Some not. Some have a "place" in my older son's heart.

Example: If I am committing to a miracle for younger son, should I be keeping all those old tattered picture books he's had for 17 years? No, i think not. Out they should go. Even if he likes hearing them, I should start reading older kid stuff to him. Maybe even the Bible.

Example: My son's hip-hop tracks on MY computer. Okay, so there I am listening to some great sermon on whatever -- faith, standing on the word, sowing and reaping, whatever-- when the sermon ends and what pops up a song my son likes (Juvenile, Lil Wayne, etc) Or a song written by my son and his hip hop band. I don't really want to get rid of these tracks cause I like music. Of all kinds. Plus those songs aren't really mine. This is pretty iffy. I really don't want to seem like one of those cookie-cutter Christians who has a house with only pure things inside it. (For instance, some of my favorite movies are rated R and I am not going to give them up for anyone just because they have a little sex and violence.) I'm thinking that blatant sexuality is annoying but some songs...well, I have a blue-grass song in my computer about reincarnation. I like the song but I don't believe in reincarnation. Can I die to self and actually toss the thing away?

Example: There I was looking over the top of the bookshelf when I see a DVD packet. I pull it down to see what the heck it was and I am greeted by these big round black women's booties in my face. Aaargh! Back in the day parents had to deal with finding porno mags, now we have to deal with finding porno mags AND porno DVD's. (No, it's not my hubby's DVD) Older son has got to stop bringing this stuff home. Now isn't this the kicker? Here I am trying to speak to spiritual mountains, trying to speak with spiritual authority to illnesses and I cannot even tell my older son to take out the garbage...kitchen garbage and otherwise.

Come on, Carole! Get yo Christian act together.