The problem with trials is that they show us a picture of ourselves that is not always flattering. They show us that our demons, our monsters were only dormant for a season. They did not go away when life was good. And what a selfish demon insecurity can be! The fear of having people know you has a bluster, a bluff, an empty show, even though that is not really the case can make one quite the whiner, the gossip and the finger pointer. It’s not me, it’s them dragging my ship down, we cry. If only so and so would pull their weight or only if this or that hadn’t happened. Geez, I tire of myself when I am this way. It would be better for me to say “only if I could be braver and bolder” when facing my trials.
Although, I’ve improved my disposition when trials come my way and no longer create all kinds of madness and drama when things become difficult and don’t go my way. I still see my impatience and flash anger desperately wanting to set themselves free to reveal my uglier and more miserable self and show the world that all my pretensions at patience, long-suffering, and understanding are one big fraud. How quickly I forget that giving into the impatience and anger is only going to make me and those around me more miserable and there would not be any long-term satisfaction in giving into my demons and letting them rue the day. I know from sad experience that giving into my emotions as a solution to my problems, as the world counsels, is just another fairy tale. Anger and words used during fits of rage do cause damage.
Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t no saint when it comes to giving into my better side. I am still hit and miss, but I don’t miss as much as I used to. Nevertheless, it’s always startling to see just how insecure I can be when things become tough. Dang! what happened to that supposed faith in the spiritual order of things where kindness, patience, charity, understanding and long-suffering matter forever and forever. It’s bad enough I put all this blabbering to paper, imagine having to be wife and listen to all the whining. Now there’s a saint, if there ever was one.