Blessed Are The Peacemakers

I get so much shit, for being nice, pardon my parlance, choosing to take the highroad since there’s less traffic on it, if you will.

I’m amazed how often my cheerful countenance is challenged as though I suffer from some debilitating disease.

It’s just as easy to be nice as it is not to be, yet the latter is more often preferable.

My ex claimed he was unfaithful because he was sick and tired of me being so nice.  It bored him, he said.  Now he lives with a woman that, according to his friends, abuse him without mercy.

Exit Pollyanna, enter, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.

Well, be careful what you wish for there sparky.

The day I have to beat you to make you happy, is the day we say good bye, or good riddance in his case.

And for the record, I hurt too easily, like shooting at Bambi.  In other words, I’m not a worthy opponent.

The world is angry, disconcerted, uncomfortable in its skin.  You feel it everywhere, like it’s covered with a dew of despair.  Just this morning, as I was leaving Starbucks, there was a little girl no more than 4, having a major meltdown while her mother was on the phone.  She was crying so hard, I thought her head might explode.

“What is it?” I asked, unable to walk by her. “Tell me. What’s got you so upset?”

She stopped wailing, her little chest heaving, not sure what to say.  I looked at the mother, oblivious to a strange woman conversing with her offspring.

I said again, “What is it?”

“I miss my daddy,” she said, snot shimmying down her cherry-red nose.

“Where is he that you miss him so?”

“Work, my daddy’s at work.”

“So, won’t he be home later, for dinner?”

She nods yes.

All this kid wanted was for her mom to get off the damned phone to pay attention to her.  You didn’t have to be Dr. Spock to figure that one out.

I smile at the mother, even though, smacking her would have been much more satisfying.

“You’re so nice,” she whispers, covering her phone.  “Thanks for shutting her up.  I could hardly hear.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, just shaking my head, before taking the next left on the highroad.

SB

 

 

 

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About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
This entry was posted in Family, grace, Home, kids, New York City, parents, religion, words and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

18 Responses to Blessed Are The Peacemakers

  1. I had to laugh at this one. *bangs head on table*

    Like

  2. Rubenstein, Hal says:

    You are really nice! Such patience! Good for you.

    Hal

    Like

  3. You can make any incident into an amusing post. What talent! I could see you “taking the next left on the highroad.” I’m sure I have never convinced a sobbing child to stop and talk to me. You are amazing.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. skinnyuz2b says:

    Susannah, there are areas on the highway to pull over to text. You should set up an area for preoccupied mothers to talk in peace while you keep offending offspring from disturbing their calls. You could perhaps charge $5 per child per ten minutes. After all, we can’t have these disruptive children bringing important conversations to a halt.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Upper eastside kids you mean. I actually give that little girl credit for speaking her mind. I HATE PEOPLE WHO TALK ON THEOR PHONES IN PUBLIC LIKE THEY’RE HOME. It’s gone viral I hate to say, and mothers, who are lucky enough to be one, should act more attentively not to mention, responsibly. My two cents.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. I taught special (emotional) needs teens for 6+ years. I found out, even during my first year, that a lot of the time all the kiddos wanted was someone to listen to them, pay them a bit of attention. That didn’t always solve matters, of course, but I gave them attention, respect, and a reason to be in my class. I am proud to say many have said I am the reason they are where they are (or even are) and that I am friends with quite a few on FB.
    Scott

    Liked by 1 person

  6. micklively says:

    A smile is a deadly weapon, in the right hands (or face).

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Thank goodness for the peacemakers in this world, lord knows they seem like a minority these days.
    That little girl has already learned who/what is most important to her mother, and she’ll be paying her back in full force in about ten years. What goes around comes around … yikes!

    Liked by 1 person

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