Pancakes

A house full of grandchildren gave me reason to pause and think back on my formative years…trying to recall if my childhood was so dramatic, so over-the-top and so volatile.  Perhaps it was.

 “The pancakes are too small” was the vociferous complaint.  I had to snicker and think to myself…eat more of them…there’s a solution.  Of course this wisdom only comes from a lifetime of living.  Then the cry rang out “I hate my life” as if in some subconscious struggle for attention.  Though I don’t remember being quite so vocal as a child…I am sure there were all the same runaway emotions at work.  In the old days…one did not want to draw too much attention because a father’s belt could dole out a bit more attention than one really wanted.

 I most definitely recall thinking how much I hated my life, hated my parents and how I wanted to flee the oppression they dished out.  How unfair they were…not allowing me to do as I pleased.  I was not allowed to play with guns or sharp sticks…not even run though the house with a pair of scissors.  I recall my mother’s exact words “you’ll put your eye out.”  It seemed everyone else got to do what they wanted to do…but never me.  I distinctly remember lying in bed at night plotting my escape…dreaming of running away and joining the circus.  Yes, I hated my life…life “Su@%ed”.  I just did not use that word…I suppose it wasn’t invented yet.  

 I recall how much I really, really wanted a Red Rider B-B gun and never got it…on the up side…I never shot my eye out.  I never considered the fact that I slept in a warm bed every night, I ate hot meals every day, and I got loads of Christmas presents every Christmas and birthday presents every birthday. Oh! No! That was never factored into the equation. 

 I don’t want to be a child again…well…I don’t want to be childish anymore. Those were some hard lessons to learn.

Dear Lord Jesus,

Give me the wisdom and patience to put up

with the children that force me to grow up.

Amen.