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Recovering From the Weekend

Every day my little girl asks if she can be in charge of the day. She plans the most elaborate events with going to a donut shop for breakfast, going to Chick-Fil-A for lunch, and Chuck E. Cheese for supper. In between she wants to go to Barnes and Noble to read books and play with puppets. It always sounds amazing. I told her she could plan part of the day. On one day we went to Chick-Fil-A for lunch. On another day we went to Chuck E. Cheese. On another day we had donuts for breakfast, and we went to Barnes and Noble. I do not have the stomach or the stamina to do everything.

Last night, we went to a local pizza place that she loved. I ordered Cherry Pepsi, and I got Root Beer. I ordered two plates of fried ravioli, and I received one. My group put in the order for pizza, and the server lost our order. After two hours of waiting and a few words with the staff, the food came. I was outraged. The server did not apologize. She just said, "You have to understand that these things take time." That's it. "As you can see, we are really busy." They were not busy when we put in the order, and people who came in after we put in the order had gotten their food, eaten their food, and had gotten to-go boxes before we went up and said something to the staff. There was nothing I could do. It was clear that my feelings were my problem, not hers.

As one whom the mother caresses, so will I comfort you. You shall be carried at the breasts and upon the knees they shall caress you. Isaiah 66: 12-13

"Never have more tender words come to make my soul rejoice. The elevator which must raise me to the heavens is Your arms, O Jesus! For that I do not need to grow, on the contrary, I must necessarily remain small, become smaller and smaller. O my God, You have surpassed what I expected, and I want to sing Your mercies." St. Therese of Lisieux

(I Believe In Love, page 27-28)

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