Waiting
It is almost funny sometimes how we get ourselves all primed with good purposes--to love and trust, to give out what we want to get back, to do unto others what we want them to do unto us--and then the minute we find some "trouble" bobbing up in an unexpected way we get all upset, and confused, and scared, and grasp at the first expedient that suggests itself for combating infringement upon our rights, for getting our own way, for avoiding humiliation, for "saving our face." It would be funny if it weren't so tragic! How we do despair at our failures! when we ought to laugh--at ourselves.
It seems sometimes that when troubles face us, our first impulse is to fight, resist, snarl, scratch, bite, strike, crush. We find it hard to understand why. We grow desperate with a sense of our own unregenerate condition--our ingrained wickedness-our wretched inconsistencies.
If you are like me, or rather if I am like you--which I am inclined to believe I am--we both often wish that we could find some idea that we could cling to, some phrase that we could repeat, some reminder of our principle that we could use on all
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