Conversations

I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve had lengthy, in-depth conversations with the likes of Oprah Winfrey, Hillary Clinton, and George W. Bush, just to name a few. I’ve dined with the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge and sang on the same stage as Billy Graham. The fact that all these events took place entirely in my head shouldn’t make a difference. In each instance, I was brilliant. Magnificent, even.

 

It’s too bad all my in-my-head performances don’t go so well. My most recent virtual conversation took place with my son, just a few minutes ago. He’s at school right now; I was in the kitchen, looking for my special no-sugaradded hot cocoa mix. I couldn’t find it . . . and since he’s famous for running out of his own cocoa mix and plundering mine, I didn’t hesitate. I gave him the what-for, standing in my kitchen, right by myself. I spread on a guilt trip thicker than Jiff’s chunky peanut butter, and demanded that he use his Christmas money to buy me not one, but two new cans of the stuff. (Interest, you know.)

 

That’s when I recalled seeing something in the cabinet above the coffee pot . . . I opened the cabinet door, and guess what was peering back at me from the shadows?

 

My special no-sugar-added hot cocoa mix. And I remembered putting it in that location, because the boy-child never looks in there, and I thought it would be safe.

 

Apparently it was too safe, since I couldn’t find it either.

 

Now I have to apologize to him. I’m not above admitting when I was wrong. Though I’ve decided, since the accusations were made within the confines of my brain, that’s where the apology will take place as well. I might even take him to Sonic for a green candy-apple slush (his favorite). But since he won’t be there in physical form to drink it, I’ll have to help him out.

 

The whole ordeal has brought about an important reminder, though. If jumping to conclusions were an Olympic event, I’d be a gold medalist. But things aren’t always as they seem. I wonder how often I’ve made assumptions, accusing others in my head, and been totally wrong? How many times have I held grudges without ever discovering that the hot cocoa was in the cabinet all along . . . without ever learning that my ideas were in error?

 

I need to be more gracious. I need to assume the best, and not the worst. After all, the definition of love tells us to hope all things, to believe all things. I need to give people the benefit of the doubt, the way I want them to do for me.

 

I would say more, but Oprah’s waiting. She wants to film my apology.

 

“Don’t jump to conclusions – there may be a perfectly good explanation for what you just saw.” ~ Proverbs 25:8, MSG