Today my son begged me to take him to the park. I cringe when I'm asked this, because we have a nice big backyard. We have a play system that was lovingly bought for us by Rob's parents. Swings, slide, rock wall/climby thing. Our yard is fenced. The only thing we don't have, at the moment, is sand. Each year we replace the sand in the sandbox. We haven't done that yet.
Roo was relentless, I caved. We went to the park kiddy-corner from our nice fenced backyard. I instantly regretted my decision, the dog was at the back gate HOWLING. She had seen us and she knew where we were and she wasn't with us. She hates being away from or separated from her people. I went back and got the dog, who by the way, barks at everyone at the park.
"Woof woof: Look at me aren't I cute, come 'ere let me pee on your shoe so everyone will know this is MY territory."
Once I realized she was just going to bark, so I ignored her, I started hearing the things around me. F-bombs. Uh huh you heard me, bratty punk tweenagers were swarming the park like it was there own personal wasteland. Littering and swearing and kicking sand. I wanted to jump up and scream at them. Then I thought, well they'll see where I live and egg me or some of them look bigger then me and probably wouldn't hesitate to hit the noisy mom b*tch that thinks she can complain. Free country and all that...
So I did what any of y'all would do. I prayed. I prayed for God to shut their dirty little mouths.
Then I sat down next to my son and realized I just sat in a bunch of pickers. (sand burs) I was about ready to rattle off a few of my own choices words! I then looked at the dog, she was standing on one front leg and one back leg. She had pickers! I looked at Roo and he had prickers all over his pants. Time to leave.
I did my best to pick off all the prickers before we made it back to the house but one got by me. as I reach up to carefully pluck it from my jacket I got stabbed in the finger. OUCH! It hurt. I still have the tip embedded in my finger as I carefully work the keyboard.
Why am I telling you this?
Because I've got a thorny pricker in my finger and every time I catch it on a key, or touch something it hurts and I am reminded about the hurts that prick me in the middle of the day. Or the hurts that I thought were healed but spring back up with pain anew. Unforgiveness is a lot like that stinkin' pricker it just keeps pricking and pricking until you finally extract it and dispose of it properly.