I confess I push when I need to let go.
I give in when I should stand strong.
I want things right, and I get to choose what is right. This wanting, the one I have convinced myself is a need–one born in me, keeps me pulling along life that long since should have been discarded. It also holds me to commitments that should have been a polite decline of such absurd invitations.
Today I made lip gloss when clearly it was not the day nor the time to do so.
I wanted it done. already. I wanted it right. I wanted the cranberries to color the oils naturally and I wanted the tiny pots of lip gloss to be irresistibly cute.
It’s not cute to scrape gloss out of itty bitty containers before 7:30 a.m. Not so naturally Martha to drip melted gloss everywhere but into the tubes when you have nothing in your stomach but coffee.
If it can’t be right at least it can be done, right?
That type of done doesn’t feel good. It pours miracle grow on the knot in my stomach.
So inner temper tantrum complete. Gloss filled containers set to the side of the kitchen. I did what any mother would do for a toddler who pitched a fit in the grocery store, I gave myself a treat. (Oh wait. That is the antithesis of what I believe right?)
Actually, over a year ago I did try to teach this lesson to someone after we had both thrown a tantrum. Maybe the only time I taught grace. Somedays, sometimes you have to have dessert for breakfast, and after a fight or a fit sharing cookies heals wounds.
I can’t confirm the sugar theology, or even the benefits of sugar as a topical balm, much less an emotional cure-all. I can say this, the coffee cake I ate after my internal tantrum, was fabulous.
See. It is a process. You have to release your fists so that you can eat cake. Or shake hands with those you have offended.