Rush Hour

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What is an arc of a story?

There’s a beginning, a middle, and an end. And I am one of those writers that really, really likes to give the end a special umph. A lesson. Some sort of “Oh, so THAT’s what you’re getting at!” kinda thing.

Ok, let’s just call it: I like a moral to the story.

I have no arc today, guys.

Nuthin.

It was a super grumpy morning at our house today. SUPER grumpy. There was no reason behind it, not one specific event or reason, but there were tears and some yelling and I do think I acted pretty abysmally.

My boys were not involved. It was an argument between me and the husband – the very one that I wrote about not long ago – about how wonderful he was.

Well, I change my mind. He is sucky.

And then I was packing lunches and making sure permission forms were signed and reminding the boys about the twenty things I remind them about every morning and rushing from one thing to the next helped me not make any eye contact with sucky-husband.

And then, they were gone – headed out into the day – and I am here. It’s all quiet.

I think rushing is a great way to not do the thing that needs doing.

This morning was kinda like this:

Satan = 1  Family = 0

I think Satan loves rush. No, not the band, the verb. We rush about and all the while it narrows our focus to the rushy path right in front of us and no one else. We see nothing but our path, our business, our right to be right.

Oh lookie there. A moral. It just sorta snuck up on me.

So, Satan might have had between 7:30 and 8:02 am in our house but NO MORE JERK FACE GET OUT.

I have no big plans to fix all this, or write about how I fixed all this. Because I didn’t, and I won’t. But perhaps I can file it away as a way to remember that the rush is often fueled by fear, by annoyance, by bad things. And even when I get caught up, I can take a moment later, drink a cup of coffee, and pray.

Do you ever find that two distinct times are often plagued by rush and dissension:
1. Going off to school

2. Going off to church.

Hmmmm. Makes you wonder.

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One comment

  1. Oh, how I can relate! It is always church for us too, and I can remember as a kid, it was the same. Sunday mornings are always frustrating, full of angst, tears, and forgotten things we have to drive back home for on our way to church. No more, “jerk face,” hahaha! Amen!
    miccah (#69 this week)

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