Thursday, January 28, 2010
Regret is a dish that is prepared in your youth, served during middle age, and digested thereafter. It festers within during the wee hours and is laid open like a seeping wound during those quiet times when your thoughts are your own. When my thoughts or regrets consume me, my one reprieve is my children and the hope that they will not be haunted in the same way, by there past. Unfortunately, children, like ourselves, need to come to this realization on their own terms and without complete frontal lobe development. . . When I was a child I would often pray for wisdom. I would love to go back and add to that prayer; I would pray that my children would have wisdom instead. Please understand that it is not that I feel that I am wise, but rather the heartache I feel from my own indiscretions and also the folly of others. It breaks my heart to see so many people make bad choices, and not have the wherewith all to choose something better for themselves or for their family. It in turn spreads like an oil slick to their children and sticks to all they come in contact with. The disintegration of the family in this country will be its demise. I was given all the tools to make good decisions and I still made bad choices. What about the kids of kids having kids. Where is their tool box of wisdom? I guess all we can really do is help out anyway we can, and work hard to create a "tool box" for our children and possibly slow the oil slick?!
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