""She's like you....she can't hold on to a man"
"She doesn't stay home like you do. She works really hard every day."
My grandma calls it being slurred. You know the comments. The ones that are made to your face, delivered in sugared sweetness (I'm talking Southern iced tea sweet), that leave you with your head tilted and mouth hanging open, knowing... you were just slurred. Sometimes the comment is one that in any other context, would be fine. But given the actual conversation that it took place in....yep. A slur.
Today has been one of those days that it seems like I've accumlated several slurs. This isn't anything new. It comes with working with the public.
"I never thought I'd see the day when you lost all your fashion sense."
"Oh my gosh. What's wrong with you? Are you sick or something??" (umm, no. This is just me without makeup.)
"I guess they just feel sorry for you and your girls. After all. So and so could shop anywhere."
Really, its not the 'slur' that matters. I have no control of what someone says or thinks about me. What I can control is my reaction. This has been one of the biggest challenges for me since I started homeschooling. My girls are at my store almost all day. They see and hear almost everything that goes on....which includes my response and attitude after being slurred. I try to let the comments be opportunities for "teachable moments". Most days I am able to stay fairly objective. Some days my feelings get hurt. Some days, I get down right mad. I try to let my Bs see all of this, because every day, I am called to be Christ-like...every day, I have set before me the example that Christ gave, the fact that in spite of everything put upon Him, He did not sin. Am I without sin? Not one single day. Can I be humble and show grace even in unlovable circumstances?... If I've taken the time that morning to put on my armor....
And that's the kicker. Taking the time each morning to put on my armor. The breastplate of righteousness. The belt of truth (I constantly have to remind myself that it is who I am in Christ that matters)...the sword of the Word, the shield of faith....those things don't just automatically jump on me each morning. I have to sit down and gather them-at my Father's feet. Spend time in His Word. In prayer. In praise. I'm not a morning person. I need time to wake up. I need to re-caffinate...clear the cobwebs of sleep. But if I don't check in with my Father, its guaranteed...that first slur, first bump in the day...The day is going to turn into what my Bs call a "red-neck" day. No, not a Red Neck like you see at the WalMart, but a true red-neck day. My neck gets red when I get mad, or stressed, or really anxious. And so even if I keep my Southern grace in front of a difficult customer, my girls know that inside, I've lost my cool. (and I know that as soon as I calm down, they are going to tease me about my neck) And my Father knows. He sees my heart. Every minute of every day. And that by getting my feelings hurt, or getting angry, I didn't do the one thing that He ask me to do each day. Shine His Light. That's all He wants. A heart for Him that will reflect Him. Did I fail today? Miserably. Will He let me start over tomorrow? Absolutely. But I have to check in at His throne before I head out the door.
No comments:
Post a Comment