I owe God (and my husband) an apology.  My husband and I had a pretty ugly argument this afternoon that essentially boiled down to my choice of punctuation.  Now to some aspiring writers, punctuation could be that big of a deal, but this wasn't the case here at all.  I simply got angry about something that was NOT a big deal, and it unleashed a string of unkind words and hurt and hurtful emotions.  By the time my tirade was coming to a close, my husband was as hurt and angry as I was.  I sulked into Wal-mart, fighting back unhappy tears, while he sat in the van with the kids.  

 

As I maneuvered around the crowd of afternoon bargain hunters and supper-getters, I overheard a disgusted woman on her cell phone.  She was laying into the person on the other end as she snatched a gallon of milk and slammed the glass cooler door, "No!  They were NOT on your side of the bed; they were on the FLOOR on your side of the room, not on the BED!" She was drawing a few people's attention, including mine, and I was suddenly sad.  I had been that woman just moments before--yelling my fool head off at my husband, in front of my kids, in spite of God's gentle direction.  

 

Finally aware of myself and my destructive behavior, I began to feel the stinging need for repentance.  I thought about how often we all make tiny things into great big deals.  I still warred with feeling justified and offended in my anger, though...until I stood in the checkout line and heard from the store's barely audible intercom, "Attention associates, we have a code Adam.  He is four years old with long blonde hair and he's wearing a brown plaid shirt."  

 

My heart sunk in my chest, and I began to pray, "Lord, please help that child to be safe, help his mother to find him quickly."  I prayed until I heard a little voice yelling from the clothing department, "MOM?!  MOMMY?!" 

 

Then I, like every other woman in my line of sight, held our breath until we heard that intercom again, "Cancel code Adam."  Breathing again, I was humbled, and my bad attitude was gone.  I had been belligerent about a punctuation mark, and for almost five minutes, a mother was facing the fear of a missing child.  My little "funk" was certainly put into perspective then; instead of the ego-bruising condemnation I often lay upon myself, I felt the purposeful and hopeful over-pouring of Godly conviction to repent and be reconciled, and a desire to comfort those I hurt in my anger.

 

Lord, thank you for showing me how wrong I was to be angry over such a small thing and helping me to remember all my wonderful blessings above the few tiny inconveniences in my life...and Honey, I'm sorry and I love you.