Random Things

 I always like to point out that I'm not perfect. Don't believe me? Wait until you read a few of these

posts and you'll see I'm an English teacher who struggles with spelling. Ironic? Yep!

I say that so I can share this story with you.

Last Saturday I went to the Mommy store (Target). We had been locked up in our homes for a few days trying to dig out of a blizzard. We just wanted out of the house and Target was calling my soul.

We went in, I purchased a few things, then we left. Nothing major. As we were there, my son and I were singing some toddler tunes with my daughter. It kept her distracted and we were having fun being a bit silly. It's what we do. When we were walking out to our car we were on our five thousandth round of singing Johnny, Johnny and laughing about it. My son, Harry, put our purchases in the trunk while I strapped Hannah into her car seat. 

As we were in this packing up process another family was returning to their car directly next to us. Mom had finally had enough of whatever the youngest was doing. Threats of no electronics were made, Dad looked exhausted, and their older daughter was walking behind the fast-paced mom trying to go unnoticed. No judgment on any of this from me. I've been there. Do what you gotta do. As the Mom was walking her cart to the corral I was also returning my cart. We reach the corral at the same time and she shoves the cart in with all of her frustration. Steps back and sighs. Then looks at me as I put my cart back and says "It must be nice to be so perfect." 

That took me off guard and I just stood there and looked at her for a moment. I'm sure I looked shocked because I felt shocked. She stormed off to her car, and they left. As the car was pulling out of their spot I was waiting by the back of my car and watching. (I didn't want to get hit trying to get into my car.) The best way I could describe the look that she had as they were pulling out was pure anger, frustration, and a point of burnout that can only be experienced more than expressed. 

I don't know who this person was. I don't know what she is going through, and I don't know what happened in the store to upset her so much. I'm not even mad about her comment. I'm actually taking it as a compliment instead of the insult that it was meant to be. Why? 

One word: Cheesegrater. I am relaying this event after I just bandaged up Hannah from her exploration of the cheesegrater. 3 cuts, 3 bandaids, and one washed lovey later, she's fine. I didn't even know she was hurt because she didn't say anything. I just noticed the blood on her lovey (Bun-bun) and went looking to see where she was bleeding from. 

I am not perfect, that was just a good day. I hope that this Mamma is having a better time of it now. No hate towards her, no judgment, not even an ounce of malice. I actually prayed for her that night and will be praying for her again today since she is on my mind. I've been to that point with my son when he was younger and I will probably get there again. Only Christ was perfect and I sure am not Christ.