Rewind and Do It Again

Well, the triathlon was yesterday, and I do have some things to share about it, but I'll save that for a later post. Today I'm going to share another one of those growing experiences from church.

Remember how just a few weeks back I wrote about learning a little lesson about getting offended and where it can lead?

Apparently since I thought I'd learned that lesson, the Lord decided to give me a chance to prove it. I'd learned how counterproductive it was to get angry and hold a grudge against someone, right? So in theory it should be easier to forgive in the future. But in my last little experience it was a friend and it was relatively easy to forgive her and let it go.

Today, it was a very similar situation. I was offended by something someone else did with one of my children. This particular person turned around and grabbed J's arm, hard, and proceeded to rebuke him repeatedly (with a squeeze for each sentence) for kicking the back of the bench. Now, I'm not one of those moms who feels that her little darlings never do anything wrong. I know how irritating it can be for little feet to be thumping the back of your chair. In fact, it's something that I have been repeatedly been working on with J since I don't feel it shows much respect to use the pew ahead as a footrest. But call me crazy, I was appalled to see this person grabbing my son and trying to discipline him personally, especially since I was sitting right there.

OK, I admit it. I was furious. And since this was right in the middle of the sacrament being passed, I felt horribly guilty too. Here I was, having these feelings the complete opposite of anything spiritual, at a time when I am supposed to be humble and penitent and reflective. Instead, I was wishing I could grab my neighbor, wrench his arm off, and see how he liked it. Plus, this is a hormonal time of month for me, so immediately the floodgates opened and I was sniffing like mad.

J, by the way, was not fazed at all by this non-parental rebuke. His feet stayed off the bench for maybe a minute. Then he was back to entertaining himself with some paper, humming his own song, and within just a few more minutes, his feet were back to resting on the hymnbook holder in front of him. Nothing seems to have an impact on that kid! I pushed his feet down a couple of times, but since my own composure was completely rattled, I finally just decided to lead him out to sit in another room for awhile.

Outside the chapel, I listened to the talks over the speaker and waged a furious battle with myself, trying to reclaim my perspective and let the whole incident go. It was harder this time. It was not a friend, just another member of my ward who has rubbed me the wrong way in the past. It was more difficult to try and see things from his point of view. At least, I congratulated myself, I was not still sitting behind him, stewing through the whole meeting and being unreasonably humiliated by the tears that refused to shut off.

Then who should walk into the room where I was hiding? The man in question. (No, he wasn't coming to discuss the incident with me. According to my husband, he does leave the meeting on occasion and retreat to the Relief Society room. So this was normal behavior.)

Perhaps if I were truly mature and skilled with communication, I would have approached him then and calmly let him know that I was bothered by his actions with my son. I could have then explained that if in the future my son was acting inappropriately, I would appreciate him sticking to a verbal reprimand, or perhaps letting me know, so I could deal with it.

However, I am neither extremely mature, nor skilled in communication. So I ignored him altogether. Part of me feels like I have failed the test, the real one where I show I can really refrain from getting offended. But then again, maybe this test isn't a timed one, and it's OK if the forgiveness comes later. In the meantime, I'll try not to let it fester inside. After all, he was probably offended by me not taking action with J sooner, since he felt compelled to intervene. Maybe this evening he is struggling to forgive me as well.