There are times when I overstep. It can show up as a critical comment about how the workers beside the road handle letting me pass. But really, is my fifteen-second assessment of their task worth anything? Presumably they went to a training program for traffic safety, and the hazards of managing a jackhammer in the proximity of cars. It is they who do this day after day, in blistering heat and bone chilling cold. In other words, what do I know?

 

I have heard teachers who allude to the challenge of parents who are more feisty than a room full of hungry sixth graders. 

 

"Give me the kids over their mothers any day," one woman admitted. Which gave me pause.

 

Sometimes I forget to curtail my own tendency to opine about other people's jobs. I tell a bank teller, or advise a financial advisor, about how they should do their job. I am not a sports fan, but I have a feeling that people in the stands have a thing or two to say to a quarterback after a missed play. 

 

The other day I heard something that resonated. 

 

"Let God do His job." 

 

Huh? Is it possible that my worrying, or resentment, or anxiety are just variations on a theme of giving God helpful tips? Perhaps letting God be God, and Lori be Lori is a balance I need to pursue.