I am not known for my temper. My ex-husband, who at the time had very, very little good to say about me, described me as one of the most gentle people he had ever known. There are times, however, that I am not that gentle soul. Sometimes, my temper gets the best of me. My anger is not violent, and has a very short shelf life... it may pass before you even notice it. It explodes and is gone sometimes before I even figure out what I was mad about. But, lately I am being reminded that what happens in those few seconds doesn’t always stay in those few seconds. I am reminded that even in moments of extreme frustration, anger, or anxiety... everything we do has consequences.
The other day my daughter spilled chocolate pudding on my white dining room chair. I couldn’t be mad at her... she is only three... and what kind of idiot has white dining room chairs with two kids anyway? But, I could be mad at the pudding. Oh, yes... I could hate the pudding. In an instant the almost empty pudding cup was relocated (forcefully) to the kitchen sink. And it was done. The moment had passed. I was no longer angry or frustrated. After I cleaned the chair, I went to the sink to throw away the empty cup. To my dismay, the pudding was all over the sink. I cleaned that too. While I was rinsing out the sink, I looked up and found pudding on the window over the sink. I cleaned that too. Four days later, I am still cleaning up pudding. Every time I think I’ve found it all, I happen upon some other random place that a splatter of chocolate pudding has hidden itself. I’ve never seen anything like it. Yesterday, I spent almost twenty minutes standing on the very same chair that started the whole thing... trying to clean the pudding I found... on the ceiling.
Earlier this week, I collapsed into my car, frustrated and tired from a very long day. My son seems to have some sixth sense about when I am least likely to want to argue and pick just those times to challenge everything I say. He is exceptionally good at this. He tossed out one last comment that turned out to be the straw that broke my proverbial back, and I turned around and advised him that he would be very wise to not say another word. Appropriate silence ensued, but it was too late... I was angry. Annoyed and agitated, I unlocked my brake pedal safety lock and removed it, and then (forcefully) threw it on to the passenger side floorboard. As it flew through the air, it (forcefully) collided with my glove compartment and gouged the vinyl of my brand new car. I was only angry for an instant... but that inch-long scratch it will be there forever.
Such is the way with so many things in life. In just a flash of a moment, we can do damage that can take forever to repair... or may not be able to be fixed at all. We can say things and do things that turn into blemishes on the souls of others. My dad gives the brilliant illustration that harsh words and actions are similar to nails that we hammer into the spirit. You can remove the nails, but the holes and scars will always remain. Even if you fill the holes... the structural integrity of the being as a whole is compromised.
This time, it was just inanimate objects that took the collateral damage. Eventually, I’ll get all of the pudding, and the torn vinyl in my car will just be a small mark in a sea of signs of use. But until then, I want to let the reminder sink in... let the message of those moments really resonate with me. Sometimes, even a second of anger is too much. Sometimes... the content of that second lasts forever.
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