My father always told me to be careful what I pray for. As a result I try not to pray for much. My prayers are more like “Thanks, love ya.” I figure it is safer that way. This weekend I was very impatient here. I was so upset I reached out to Kim because weekends I have time to write and only those who can post without supervision could post. I was so frustrated and and inpatient. I cried. There is only so much time.
Today I had a horrible thought. What if writing, which I love, is how I am suppose to learn patience. (One moment, I think I have to cry again.) What gives me the right to believe others should work when it is convenient for me. Why am I so upset and hard headed about this? Didn’t I throw enough tantrums when I was two to overcome it? (Obviously not.)
I am open for suggestions. Another weekend is coming and I want to be happy.