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So Sorry

I’m freezing. I’m hungry. I’m surly. I’ve been scolded, twice in one day. Not the usual average for a girl who avoids confrontation at any and all costs and feels at her lowest after even the slightest sting of a tongue lashing. Both instances were ones where I thought I could get a cheap laugh and ended up hurting, alienating or irking people. See, the thing about avoiding confrontation is that, well, no one confronts you. You breeze through life just barely whispering past any real discourse about your faults in the particular department of relationship. Passivity can be delightful, but it’s just that: passive. And cowardly. And selfish.

The woman I hope to be is not crass, nor is she thoughtless, nor, for heaven’s sake, catty. These are all traits I know I am fully capable of. Not only am I capable, I’m well-rehearsed. Family members of mine could attest to this in spades. I’ve got some zingers up my sleeve and I seem to pull them out at the most inopportune, harmful times. (Well, zingers should probably always stay up the sleeve where a serious lack of ventilation will suffocate their potency and vigor.) Have you seen a man who is quick with his tongue? There is more hope for a foolish man than for him. (Proverbs 29:20). Ouch.

So when I am scolded, confronted, approached, how then do I conduct myself? What my brain wants is to shake it off and deliver one of my well-crafted zingers right back, to give the appearance that I haven’t effectively been cut down to size, that I’m contentedly cold to the heat of tension. But what my spirit tells me is to calmly pave over the rift, admit to my obtuseness and move on with grace and more awareness, having learned the lesson that was put there for me to learn. I also try to remember to operate under the assumption that if someone cares enough to confront me, it could mean that they care enough about me and who I am forever becoming to step in and help the process along. Iron sharpens iron.

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