Out of Control

It was a Saturday. I had just returned home from a four hour shift as a greeter with a car fool of groceries. I have had many opportunities to assist people with their needs among the usual ones were the direction of the bathrooms, customer service, carts, and Easter candy. I was able to find out for one woman (through the assistance of my local library) that Easter Lilies are toxic to cats (and not dogs).

Another customer was having issues with a bird pecking dents into her car. I told her my family bird story (see For the Birds). We went to both the pet and seasonal departments looking for solutions. She left with nothing but the library phone number with which she could possibly get assistance from Audubon society.

My wife came out to help me with the groceries. She reminded me that the cosmetic woman (“Margie”) from the lady’s event at church was here. Once the groceries were in my adult daughter gleefully tells me, “I’m going to be a make-up consultant.”

At that point, I wish I had remembered Proverbs 14:29 (MSG) “Slowness to anger makes for deep understanding; a quick-tempered person stockpiles stupidity.” Though I should have been happy in this step of maturity for Allena, instead I was quite irritated at that moment. Several options lay before me, I could make my displeasure know to my family privately after Margie left, or display my anger to everyone present (including our visitor).

I chose the less mature option. My loud five minute tirade (as a red-faced devil) left me looking foolish, my dog Lola running for cover, and the other three people in the room embarrassed and cringing. (The only thing receiving physical abuse later after Margie left was the tube of toothpaste I threw in the direction of my room.)

My wife feels my angry outbursts are a neurological effect from my brain surgery in 2009 to find the type of cancer I had. My blatantly honest mother disagreed, and says I’ve always been that way.

Later after I calmed down, Margie graciously accepted this text apology below (via Bobbi). “I am so sorry for my scary outburst today.  I do want my daughter to succeed. I have lived with Allena all her life. I know her unsuccessful starting tendencies. I don’t want her to be hurt by this. Today, I felt like my daughter was going off a cliff. I had to do something drastic.”

I am writing this on Easter morning 2015 (before church), and have just had a heated disagreement with my family on something extremely stupid. Who is allowed to let off flatulence in the home? Who cares? Maybe I need to take my own advice. So think before you yell. What are the after effects? Have you considered other options in making your point known?