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Rush to Judgement

by By Jamie R.
Photo by: Shutterstock

I went to a fabric store Tuesday to get some thread to sew patches on my daughter’s Girl Scout uniform. With supplies in hand, I made my way to the checkout 20 minutes before I had to pick up my son from preschool.

Once in line, I had the misfortune of being stuck behind a woman with her two and four year-old grandsons. The youngest was sitting in the shopping cart and the oldest was jumping around and reeking havoc on unsuspecting shoppers. The grandmother asked the older brother countless times to please hang onto the cart. She apologized to me and to the checker.

I was childless, and frustrated by the kid’s unwillingness to listen and the grandmother’s inability to discipline. “His mom is in class today,” she told me. “She’s finishing her master’s degree.” While part of me was thinking “good for her,” the much larger part of me was hating her for being so selfish as to not realize how much her boys needed her to be present in their lives right now, rather than seeking higher education.

This grandmother had done her raising, and should not be responsible for these two young children. “Tell the nice lady where you daddy is,” the grandmother said. I faked a smile and looked down at him hoping, perhaps, a conversation would be enough of a distraction to get him to settle down for a minute. After all, I had to check my stuff out so I could get my kids from school on time.

“My Daddy got shotted by bullets,” he said without flinching.

No eye contact. No hesitation.

“Tell the nice lady,” the grandmother said, “where your daddy is.” “He is with the angels in Heaven,” replied the child. “But where is his body? Where do we get to go visit him?” the grandmother coaxed. “The National Cemetery. My daddy is a hero. A willy, willy big hero!” The judgemental store, including myself, fell silent.

Moments later, I was at their car helping the grandmother load the kids into their car seats, and thinking about just how amazingly blessed I really am.

Jamie is raising her three kids in a small town outside of Dallas, and splits her days between wearing a Super Mom cape and writer’s bifocals. She has completed her first women’s fiction novel and has started her second. Read more of Jamie’s work at Jamieannerichardson.com

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