Less like me

 "Thank you for your grace."  "You're so sweet."  Those types of expressions are very rarely directed at me.  Let me think about it...actually, I'm exaggerating.  Those types of comments are NEVER directed at me (unless accompanied by a deep eye-roll and a sarcastic smirk).  This past week, however, I got both of those addressed at me...at me!  

I so totally did not feel right about accepting the compliments.  It did not feel like me.  And the funny thing was...the people who offered those kind words were actually honest.  Not a hint of sarcasm...

I am not known by my capacity of extending grace to others.  I am the person who, when feeling the slightest perception of disrespect (whether it is intentional or completely unintended by the perpetrator) I pounce.  I become a wild cat that loses all sense of perspective and acts on instinct.  And my instincts are 100% savage.  I go into a crushing mode...like a terminator...who would not stop until it terminates...until it crushes...until it extinguishes any perceived thread.

It is no wonder, I'm not called sweet and full of grace by anyone.  But, this past week...I had the rare opportunity to taste the deliciousness of being considered a person who extends grace to others...and it was amazingly rewarding.

This morning, though...things got back to normal.  

I mean, it is not even 10 am as I'm writing this, and I already got to be me again.

I felt disrespected (it didn't matter if it was a sweet, little old lady or my husband...I got them both good).  I turned into wild-cat-terminator again...and I knew it from the moment I reacted...I knew I was being me again...and I felt awful...but it was too late.  I had committed myself to being nasty.  And nasty was what they got.

"That poor lady is probably still talking about you, Mom...saying how rude you were."  

Yep...that's what Dylan, my young and impressionable teenage son said to me afterwards (he made sure I had become human again before he said it, of course...).  But...yeah...he was there to witnessed my rude behavior to that little old lady at the urgent care facility's counter...chatting her life away with the receptionist, while I waited six-feet behind her, fuming furiously...unwilling to accept her apology after she realized she had been holding up the line.

"I know, Dylan...I made a choice between lying and being honest.  I chose honesty.  The problem is that my honesty is brutal. And I know I should not have done that...it was not right."  That's all I could say to him...sigh...

Extending grace is one of the marks of those who keep very fresh in their hearts and souls the truth and the fact that they have received grace when grace was not what they deserved.  I am completely aware of my undeserving nature and how, if it depended on my deeds, I would be more than condemned.  I know that grace is a gift that cost the ultimate price to the Giver.  I am grateful beyond measure for such an extravagant gift. But...my pride is still my stumbling block.  I'm stuck on pride rock.  And I still have a long way to go.  But, I have tasted the goodness of being humble...and I pray that one day, I can forget all about being me, and just walk humbly with my Lord.

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.

    And what does the Lord require of you?

To act justly and to love mercy

    and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6: 8