Grace to let go

I usually don't bother taking my kids through the adult section of the library. Not because they are particularly disruptive, but because I know I won't be able to give much attention to looking at books while they are with me. Recently, I decided that my desire to look for a book was great enough to justify taking my kids through the adult section. So I did.

My kids are reasonably well behaved in public. My oldest son is five and can be relied upon to be quiet when he needs to be. My youngest son is almost two, and isn't so quiet. But what he lacks in quietness, he makes up for in adorableness. At least I think so.

As we walked through the adult section of the library, my oldest son followed behind me carrying a book he had picked out from the kid's section. He was carefully paging through the book as he walked and not making much noise, if any. My youngest son was contained in his stroller, but being contained did not stop him from being who he is! At every new face he saw, he shouted "Hiiii!" Nearly everyone who saw him showed an expression of delight. Even the Librarian was smiling.

But as we were leaving I noticed an older man sitting at one of the computers. I would guess he was probably in is his 70's, but the scowl he wore made him look older. The man didn't realize I was looking at him. I thought I noticed him glaring at my youngest son. But I reminded myself not to be so presumptuous. "Maybe that's just the way his face looks" I told myself. "Maybe he can't help it. Maybe he's just really frustrated with the computer and felt that my children were distracting him."

My oldest son was trailing about 10 feet behind me as we exited the adult section of the library. He was still paging carefully through his book as he walked. I looked at the old man over my shoulder to see if he was still studying my children and to see if his expression had changed. It hadn't. And this time, he began shaking his head in disapproval, still scowling heavily at my oldest son who walked discreetly past the man without making a sound.

When I saw this, a jolt of fiery energy pulsed through my chest. At first I thought the feeling was anger. I thought maybe this man's disdain for my children struck me as an injustice, and maybe this made me angry? Then I wondered if maybe the feeling was something less like anger and more like fear? Maybe it was the fear that I might have totally miscalculated the level of disruption my children were causing in the library? Or maybe I was fearing having to let go of any inclination I might have had to tell that man what I thought of his attitude. Maybe I was afraid to let it go, because letting it go meant that nothing would be done about it. Maybe I was afraid of nothing being done about it, because it just seemed so wrong. Or maybe I was afraid that even if I wanted to tell that man what I thought, when it came down to it, I was too cowardly to do it. Maybe the feeling was a mix of all those things.

Whatever the feeling was, it passed quickly. After running through all the possible causes and solutions to the feeling in my mind, I decided that it no longer mattered what happened or why, and it wasn't worth my being upset about. When I decided this, the feeling died instantly.

Standing in the elevator, going down, my heart was filling up with gratitude. Gratitude for knowing that I don't have to hold onto fears and hurts and angers. I'm sure I'll face plenty more fears and hurts and angers that aren't so easy to let go of. But in that moment, I was grateful for the grace to let go.