Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: PATIENT (11/25/21)
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TITLE: Ginger Girl | Previous Challenge Entry
By Corinne Smelker
12/02/21 -
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“Hey! You’re half-Irish, right? You know what they say about Irish tempers.”
From the time I was a little girl I heard those two refrains almost daily at school, on the playground and in my extra-curricular activities.
My father, the red-headed Irishman, used those old tropes to explain away his bad behaviour, his legendary temper, and his drunken rages.
So, I believed the old wives’ tales, after all, my father epitomised them. Even though I was, at heart, a peacemaker (someone had to be in our tumultuous home), I’d lose my temper and blame it on my genes and my hair colour. My anger was of the ‘slow boil’ variety, in contrast to my father’s explosive volcano that could erupt at any second without warning.
When I left home at 16 and became surrounded by actual sane people, I realised, probably for the first time, that I did not have to live up to the sayings about gingers and the Irish. Now suddenly I had to grapple with a whole new way of controlling my emotions, and of expressing myself appropriately. I wish I could say I was spectacularly successful, but time and again I failed miserably.
I had accepted Christ as a teen, and somehow thought the whole “you are a new creation” (2 Corinthians 5:17) thing meant I would magically change. I thought the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23) would be like the gifts of the Spirit, and I would somehow embody them all immediately, especially patience. Hah! Nope – didn’t happen.
It’s been over 40 years since I struck out on my own, with minimal contact with my red-headed Irish father. Marriage, kids, my role in our church, and career have kept me busy and fulfilled.
Just last week, at Thanksgiving (a tradition I gladly embraced when I married my American husband), our eldest son mentioned he was grateful that I had been so patient with them all as we raised them. My face must have been a picture because he said, “Mom, you are the most patient person I know.”
Me. Patient. Me?
Then I reflected – every day used to be a struggle to hold my tongue, to not get frustrated at situations, to not explode on some poor hapless store clerk. But when did I last really have to control my temper, and my actions?
Have I mellowed in my ‘old age’? If I have, why not my late father? He was brash, brusque, rude, and impatient to his very last breath.
Romans 12:1 explains the metamorphosis all believers go through. Mine might have taken 40-plus years but I am thrilled that those around me see me as patient (if they only knew the thoughts ramming around this brain of mine!)
The fact that my ginger hair is fading to white might have a part to play too!
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