I am tired of bossing people.

Tonight as I finished up my English class which consisted of 9 energetic 12 year olds who had just come from a long Friday at school and were not interested in learning English, this was the recurring thought that kept echoing around in my mind.

I’ll say it again, with exclamation marks.

I am tired of bossing people!!!

I’ll put it bold and in italics, too.

 I am tired of bossing people!!!!

And capitals.

I’M TIRED OF BOSSING PEOPLE!!

I’m tired of telling kids what to do, and more, what not to do. I’m tired of that scrunched up feeling inside that comes when you have told this child for the millionth time not to write on the table and that child to stop talking and this child to sit properly (because if she doesn’t she will fall out of her chair. It’s a proven fact of her life.)

When I taught school in the states, one of my main weaknesses was my gift of mercy. Somehow it feels like I lost that. I feel like a big mean bear that has just come from a long winter nap, always squelching the natural desires of the sweet little children at the nursery where I work daily, and then the older ones at my English class every Monday and Friday. And then I come home and boss the little girl who lives with me.

But how do you get children who have never been taught to behave to behave without being bossy? There MUST be some other way, yet it feels like nothing ever completely works.

When does asking for obedience become control? Where is the balance of needing quietness and order, and yet letting children have fun? Am I leading children or am I simply controlling them? I myself hate that feeling of being bossed and controlled.

I think it just takes a lot of patience. A LOT!

I love them. But I get the maddest at the people I love the most. Because grrrr, they don’t live up to my expectations of what people I love should be like. I love them so I want them to succeed and I want them to grow up to be good, God-fearing men and women. And I’ve got bad motives too. They make me look bad.

Now that I’ve gotten those italics and bold letters and capitals out of my system, I think I can relax. And tomorrow is Saturday.

This post doesn’t make much sense, I know. It’s not supposed to. Friday evening posts after a long week of work never were meant to make sense.

I need some mountain top time alone with God, and a good hot latte.

Thank you, Jesus, for Saturdays.