When I was young, back when the Garden of Eden was in bloom and we were still counting how many turtles' shells the Earth was resting on, I actively considered following in the path of Mother Teresa.
I was a serious child and could not understand the despair in the world – I was pretty sure I could help.
A lack of confidence has never been one of my problems.
Unfortunately, the path to righteousness has many sideroads at which you may turn; and since leaving childhood, I have gone dizzy with the number of times I've diverged from the path...
I have laughed – and not in a nice way – at a drunk woman who squatted on the sidewalk, in a very short skirt, to rummage through her purse, her underwear glowing in the dark, her butt, inches from the pavement, a chubby white advertisement for sobriety.
I once told a beggar who tried to hug me “Touch me and I’ll scream”.
I have accused my husband, the long-suffering William Throckmorton the III, of undisclosed mental retardation after having been asked to repeat myself for the fifth time.
I have chased a rather large woman on a motorized scooter for three blocks before succumbing to asthma and bare-footed-ness.
This is kindness? This is humility? This is turning the other cheek?
Ah, well, the other cheek is still squatting on the sidewalk, I suspect, looking drunkenly for her wallet.
In short, ladies and gentlemen, I believe I have strayed from the path that Mother Teresa would have asked me to walk.
I have lost patience with the people who take more than they need, pretending that they don’t notice that they’ve done so.
I have lost respect for the people who don’t cop to their own culpability, who manipulate reality for their own ends and take others with them.
I have become intolerant of the people who add nothing but only take.
In short, I have discovered that I am more human than I had hoped for.
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