Walking Blindly

Memories are such a weird thing.
The other day I was folding laundry.
A harmless task, right?
Just as I brought the edges of a towel together
into my mind popped a conversation I'd had
with a married couple many years ago.
In it I was as graceless as can be
while trying to point out a flaw in their religion.
I was so proud of myself at the time
for putting them in their place.
Dearest one and I were never invited to their house again.

I stood there with the towel in my hands, full of remorse.
Because it wasn't until that moment I realized how unkind I had been.
Often that little bit in the Big Book that talks about being quick to see where religious people are right pops into my head.
Sometimes I want to beat people over the head with that sentence
because I am one of those religious people.
It's okay, I don't see that term as a swear word.
But I understand that many people do.
Probably because they encountered someone like me
behaving like I did on that day many years ago.

But what struck me most about that memory
was how right I felt in the moment.
Shouldn't they thank me for enlightening them?
I truly thought they should.
Totally blind I was.
Totally blind.

I have a little sticky note I sometimes
paste to my computer screen at work.
It says, impulse ------- action.
When I see it I hope to remember
the gap between the two,
especially when it comes to opening my mouth.



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