An Open Letter to the Person Who Cut Me in the School Pick Up Line

Dear person who cut in front of me in the after-school pick up line today,

What a sad day indeed to have witnessed such a calamity on this 25th day of August! I couldn’t believe my eyes when your red sedan swooped into the (very small) opening between myself and the silver van in front of me as we were inching closer to the school entrance. I honked, but you didn’t seem to notice. Perhaps I should have honked louder or more numerously than I did. Perhaps I should have gotten out and knocked on your window to let you know that you had committed a serious faux pas.

Have you ever been in a line before, dear red sedan driver? If you haven’t, I will gladly tell you how it works: first, you must take note of the end of the line (in this case, the last car in the pick up line) and then place yourself behind the last vehicle, thus yourself becoming now the last vehicle in line. Then you wait. (And wait and wait and wait some more.) As you are waiting, more cars will likely line up behind you (as is the proper way for a line to form), and then as the line moves, you will move up slowly to the front to pick up your elementary school student waiting for you.

The elementary student you picked up today has had lots of practice being in line – they were lined up waiting very nicely at the orange cone for you to arrive and pick them up. Perhaps you could ask this student how to properly wait in a line?

I admit, I did snap a picture of your car… and your license plate… as we ended up side by side in the two-laned pickup area. You didn’t seem to notice me, but seemed very focused on your steering wheel. I applaud your desire for vehicle safety (I can only assume that’s why you wouldn’t risk a glance at me.)

I also confess, that I had many ideas initially of what I could do with these pictures I obtained of your car. Post them to social media, maybe to the school district’s Facebook page? Make flyers and tape them up all over the elementary school? Make a “WANTED” sign in an old western style (that could be kind of fun!) Turn it into a meme?

It would, however, do me no good to provide you the justice you deserve, because then I would find myself becoming the type of person I don’t want to be. The fact that I entertained such vengeful ideas of reciprocation against you (as outlined in the prior paragraph) shows how easy it is to find oneself considering all sorts of evil against another person. How quickly we (I speak in terms of humankind) like to make enemies of one another!

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I’m Still Here

It’s a Tuesday, August 17th.

I don’t have anything novel or revolutionary to say. I’ve been in somewhat of a low place the last few weeks. But I just wanted to post something to say that I’m still here (it’s been over 2 weeks since I’ve been active on here.)

I just reorganized and sorted through my sock and underwear drawer. It is therapeutic for me to organize and get rid of things. Clutter is one of my kryptonites (not sure if that’s the proper plural of kryptonite?)

I know I’m stressed because I’ve been wanting to clean and organize, and reorganize, and sort, and declutter… and it never seems to be enough.

I’m anxious about my son starting Kindergarten (in 2 days!) I’m anxious about the Delta variant, and about the fact that schools around here seem to be doing nothing as a precaution.

I’m frustrated about things that never seem to change despite me working really hard to change them. The other day I hit a point where I questioned why I’m even putting in the effort. It it’s not going to make a difference, I could at least save my energy for other things.

I’ll give you an example. Sometimes (well, if I’m honest, many times) I hate how I look. I put in a lot of effort to style my hair, do my makeup, choose what clothes I wear… and then I see myself in a picture and I think that it was all for nothing. I might as well just roll out of bed, throw on any old clothes and walk out the door – either way, I won’t like how I look. (I know this is a defeatist attitude, but here we are.)

A second example: sometimes I wonder why I pray about things if they don’t seem to be changing. Why does it feel like God isn’t listening? When is it appropriate to give up and move on? I woke up early this morning to pray when that thought popped into my head. And then I thought about Joseph, and about how he spent years in terrible situations like slavery and prison, but that in the end, it had a purpose. If he could have seen the future, he could have seen that all of it was leading up to something bigger than him, all he had to do was endure it. (Feel free to read more about Joseph in the latter half of Genesis, I know I did not do the story justice here.)

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