Neal Pollard
The boys and I went shopping for Kathy last night. She was singing at a nursing home with the Monday night Ladies Bible class, and we decided it was the perfect night to stock up on Christmas gifts for her. We went to the mall and parked in front of one of the stores (can’t say which one because that’s where we bought present number one). I asked Carl, our youngest son, to hold the bag containing that gift. We proceeded to go in and out of several stores. The bag from the next store where we purchased Mom a gift was held by Gary, our oldest. Then, we went into another store later and Dale (middle son) and I each had to hold a bag from there. We went into Sears, where I bought coffee filters. Carl, exhausted by now, sat in a chair to rest. We then proceeded to another store to stop, get help from an employee, and look for an item. Then, we finally made it back through the first store and out to the car. As we were loading our bags into the back, I asked Carl where his bag was. His eyes got big and his mouth didn’t move. I knew the answer! He had laid it down and carelessly walked off without it! How irresponsible! What are we going to do? Surely somebody has stolen it by now. Let’s hurry back. I was in a hurry and admittedly unhappy with Carl’s lapse in judgment. We rushed into the store where we had stopped to ask for help a few minutes before. We went back to the part of the store we were directed to search for the item we were looking for. The bag was not there. We then went back to Sears, talked to HR, LP, and some other agency whose initials I don’t remember. I was giving Carl the silent treatment, the disappointed parent look, and the “what are we going to do” attitude. No sign of the bag in Sears. Well, we decided to cut back to the car through the store we had been in before Sears. Gary saw the bag, still sitting at the counter where we had asked for help the first time. It had been 11 minutes since we stood at the trunk. I know, because I was keeping up with it. Crisis over. Dilemma solved. Bag in hand, then in trunk. Time to breathe deeply and heave a sigh of relief. Sort of.
Yes, I tried to recover the situation. I put my arm around him and smiled. He was relieved that we found the bag and understood that it was a mistake on his part. But, what about my initial reaction? I could not shake that as I replayed it in my mind. I did not shout, but I overreacted. Should I have gotten sullen or impatient? Even if we had never found the (fairly expensive) gift, so what? I had the opportunity to teach that finding a bag is not as big a deal as it is to keep shining your light when an unfavorable wind blows your way.
Do you know when I find it easy to be patient? When it’s easy to be patient. When is it hardest to be patient? When patience is most tried. When we do need to show the most patient? When it is hardest to be patient! How humbling and shameful it is to fail when put to the test. My failure was larger than Carl’s. I told him so. Since you know, I’ve told you, too. Hopefully, this is a reminder to be patient especially when it is not second nature to do so.
