We took Benjamin to the high school production of Miracle on 34th Street. I was a tad nervous, recalling the awkward moment last year when we had to exit Pirates of Penzance because of his angst. But he enjoyed it and sat nicely throughout the two and a half hours with a brief intermission to nab a soda which he plunged into his pocket for later. Even that small act shows growth in his ability to wait for things.
Last week I noticed that I was well behaved in a scenario that I have long been feisty for. John likes to shop on Sunday nights and takes great pride in providing for his family. There were many times when he would unpack eight jars of spaghetti sauce when we already have four, or seven jars of peanut butter to keep the other six company. I prefer to actually run out and then restock. The abundance, I am chagrined to admit, irritated me. I like air space but he enjoys the challenge of making six bags of spinach fit in the freezer.
Over the past months I have been reigning in my tongue, and praying for gratitude and last week it arrived. Or rather the annoyance did not. I joined Team Unpack Odhners and lined up the cans and jars like little parades on the shelves. We even pumped up the Christmas music.
It's a small thing really. Not noticeable to anyone who had never felt the agitation to begin with. But I was thankful for my own calm, and finally felt like I was in sync with everyone around me.
Sometimes it is only in the wake of struggle that we can appreciate the sweet acceptance. In my particular life there are times when I need to exit a social situation because I have a son with special needs. That is what is. When it works for him to stay my gratitude spikes, perhaps more than that of someone who never had to wrestle a kid out the back door.
When I try to splice John's shopping habits with mine there are pieces left on the ground of what I wanted. But maybe if I work at it I can be more like Ben. I can learn to wait for things.
