A week ago, we were sent out from church with the command of loving each other ringing in our ears.
I have failed miserably.
It has been the kind of week where I often shook my head and said, "I did not go to grad school for this." It's the time of the quarter where students realize that they can't continue to goof off indefinitely. I've seen more than one in my office who cannot come to terms with the fact that they've blown it for the final time. I've dealt with co-workers who have feathers ruffled in varying degrees of severity. I've tried to sort out not one, but two, room mix-ups. I have tried to stay patient, to hide my frustration, to not blow up as people continued to push and push and push.
As I said before, I have failed miserably.
And now I must practice the trait that is toughest for me: forgiving myself and moving on. I have been stuck in the beating myself up for not being able to stay calm and unflappable and above the fray.
Healing Sunday has rarely been so timely for me. I will get the oil on my forehead and hear the words of forgiveness.
I will try to believe that I am forgiven.
something broke me
7 months ago