Last week, I forgot the first rule of our office. “We are Here to Serve.” I had been sick (which is no excuse) and my backlog of work was screaming (which I should have expected) and the patient was demanding. (which happens sometimes)

I responded badly, though. I was really without excuse. I was the mature adult in the room. The one who was supposed to have the Fruits of the Holy Spirit tumbling out of my basket as a cornucopia of kindness. Instead of soothing the patient’s troubled soul, though, I rather snarled at him.

Wendell is a much better Christian than I am. He reminded me we don’t refuse to treat people just because they are acting like jerks. I apologized. And was forgiven. And then Wendell fixed the poor fellow all up.

Just the day before, our son had written about an exchange with his four year old daughter. Following some unaceptable behavior on her part, he had said, “Hey, it’s not all about you.”

I can only imagine the serious look in her eyes when she replied, “Well, who is it all about then?”

I plan to keep that in mind this week.