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Forgetfulness

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Forgetfulness

He forgot! That was his excuse, his reason for not being in the place he told me he’d be. I was on time, early actually, and waited. After a while, I began to wonder if I got the date wrong so I checked my phone calendar and I was on time, in the right place. Several moments passed and I texted him and waited. After a while, a text came back which read; “I’m sorry! We won’t be able to meet tonight. I told others and forgot to tell you.” I took a deep breath as frustration washed over me but didn’t last long. He forgot. I forget. There are times I’ve missed appointments and have let someone down. He didn’t do it on purpose. I knew him well enough to know he would’ve told me if he had remembered. I turned the key to my truck, put it in drive and left for home. Soon I was lost in thought driving down a road and had forgotten the whole situation. The next day he was in contact with me again trying to make things right. There wasn’t anything wrong. He had forgotten, I knew how he felt, and I’d moved on as did he.

People make mistakes. No one is perfect and yet sometimes we beat ourselves up or others for making mistakes. If we are honest we know mistakes happen and will keep happening. We do our best not to make them often and forgive others as, hopefully, they have and will forgive us.

For more reflections, posts, and other writings, please visit: http://www.thewannabesaint.com

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)

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Frustration

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Frustration

This morning I had an early appointment in Nashville to being a training. I put the address in my GPS app on my phone and off I went. It took me to the exact spot I’d entered into the phone but there was one problem, it was the wrong address. It took me a moment to realize my mistake until I literally got to the end of a dead-end road. Argh! I felt my frustration starting to grow. Instead of being 30 minutes early I was going to be late. I checked the address again, realized where I made my mistake, and set off in the right direction. Trying not to let my anxiety rise to a harmful level I turned on a three-lane road and stopped at a traffic light. I was in the far right lane, an SUV in the center lane, and a sports car in the left lane. I heard yelling and realized it was the SUV driver and the sports car driver having a road rage episode. I couldn’t make out much of what they were saying and the words I could understand I don’t dare repeat.

I sat there listening and watching the living embodiment of frustration out of control; testosterone, anger, and vitriol spewing out of both of them. It made me take stock of my mood and I realized it wasn’t worth getting upset over my mistake and to let it go. I did, arrived at the training on time and am thankful for the lesson two men out of control could teach me.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

Smoldering

Smoldering

On Saturday afternoon I burned a pile of branches, old newspapers, and other miscellaneous items. The smell of the ashes and leftover debris lingered in the air the next day. I had forgotten to grab an old wooden rocking chair out of the reading room which also needed to be disposed of. When I noticed it Sunday afternoon I wondered if the smoldering ash would still be hot enough to do anything. I took the chair out, broke it into several pieces and put some under the coals, which were still a faint orange, and put the rest in a pile on top. I checked it after a while and noticed the smoke had increased. About an hour later the wood was ablaze with a good flame. It didn’t take long to consume it once the fire restarted. Not too long afterward the chair was gone.

I wrote last week about the struggles I have when February rolls around. Many years have passed but the layers of hurt, anger, and uncertainty still lay buried, ready to ignite when fuel is added. What I try to do, instead of dwelling on the past, is not feed the flames. When I am aware and notice my mind drifting back to the place of pain I find a place to breathe. I close my eyes and take deep breaths. I remind myself of the truth that I cannot change the past but I can be present in the now. Does it always work? No. Does it work? Yes. Maybe one day I will be healed, maybe not, but I don’t want to give up on living today because of the difficulties of yesterday.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

Wrinkles

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Wrinkles

This morning, per our routine, I ironed Beth’s clothes as she was getting ready for work. I turned the iron on and then took the dog outside. When I returned to the clothes that needed pressing I began to run the iron over them. My mind was elsewhere, on things I needed to do today, and so I didn’t notice the wrinkles weren’t being removed. When I finished I held the dress up to look at it and it was still full of wrinkles! “Argh!” I grunted exasperatedly.  I checked the iron and it was cool to the touch. I looked at the lights on the iron which indicate the amount of heat that is being emitted and then noticed the automatic off had been activated while I was outside with the dog. I had been gone too long.

Today is my birthday. The older I get the more I understand there’s always going to be wrinkles in my life, imperfections. I’m never going to be perfect and that’s okay. There will be days I get it right, on time, with no mistakes and other days when I wait too long, mess it up, wonder why I keep trying. Such is life and I am doing my best to live it.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

Caged

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Caged

He paced back and forth like a caged tiger. I watched him as he went side to side, back to front. At first, he was on a phone call and then afterwards he continued his anxious pacing. I was sitting, waiting, in a room at our county jail which was mostly glass facing the pacing man. I knew what he was feeling because I was struggling with the same anxiety. My classroom wasn’t ready and I was asked to stay in one room until the other one was available. Inside I felt emotionally restless, ready to go, get the class underway.

However, unlike the man pacing back and forth, I noticed what I was doing and took a breath. I folded my hands together placed them on my knees, inhaled and exhaled again. When I was allowed into the classroom I was no longer anxious but settled. I organized the chairs, wrote my notes on the dry-erase board as the men began to come in and find their seats. A worker from the jail checked in to see if everything was okay and I assured her it was. She apologized for the wait. “That’s okay,’ I replied, ‘sometimes having nothing to do, being forced to wait is exactly what we need.”

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

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