Saturday, February 11, 2012

To Make A Short Story Long


Lord, please continue to remind me of practicing and growing patience because I just messed up.

I went to the fridge late at night to sneak an ice cream snack.  This would be just a little while ago from posting this so happened [to me] Friday night [but actually after midnight so Saturday].  Mom must have heard me ‘cuz she called my name.  I stopped just before the hallway, waiting for her to tell me what she wanted me to know.

She starts telling me about a lunch she recently had with The Aunties.

I’m half listening and half thinking about my ice cream.  It’s one of those fudge bars on a stick kind.

Mom pauses a lot when she’s telling a story, trying to tell it to make sense.  She was pausing a lot this time… taking about a minute for each 10-second thought… for about 30 thoughts.  If I did that right, it comes to about 3 minutes? 

I know, 3 minutes?  That is not a long time.

It could mean forever for melting ice cream. 

I’m also thinking that I’m helping Mom finish sooner by asking quick, leading questions or making quick statements to what I think she’s trying to tell me.

Which causes another 30 thoughts. 

Basically, Mom thought she made a faux pas of mentioning something to an Aunty who got hurt because she felt left out but thought about it and did some investigating and found out that she had no reason to be hurt because she wasn’t left out because someone else misfiled her notice.  So, in the end, there was nothing for me or Mom to do because it turned out alright. 

As soon as I thought she was done [she might not have actually been done but I won’t know now unless she tells me everything again another time which is quite possibly going to happen], I headed for my room.

My ice cream was soft but still intact and enjoyable.
____________________________

Oh, I used to be much worse.  I sometimes AM much worse still.  Sigh.

I think I tend to do that with other people as well.  I am so sorry and…
Mom tried every trick to have
me stop sucking on my thumb.
I wonder sometimes if she
regrets having broken my habit.

…with God’s help, “I’m not gonna be that way anymore,” as Patsy Clairmont says!

To help me with this, please kindly remind me that you’d like me to listen and to not interrupt you.  Thank you!

To make a long story short: Mom tends to make a short story long, yet it’s important to her in order to have a connection with me and I ought to honor her by having more patience and listening.

Thank you for reading!