Confession: I am not a judge

                               Confession: I am not a judge

I really make a conscious effort to not judge others, and I have to say that I generally do a pretty good job at not judging... But I found myself judging a group of women this week. The ironic part... I was judging them for judging me.

Sweaty palms, shortness of breath, slightly blurry vision... a full blown anxiety attack.... driving Julian for his kindergarten screening! We get out of the car and I bend down and pray with him before we walk into the school. I'm reassuring him that it's going to be awesome, meanwhile in my head... You can do this Julie, he won't have your experience, you can walk in there, your an adult, pull it together, all the other moms will be just like you...

Head held high, smile on my face, Julian's hand in mine, I walk through the school door with confidence, I sign us in and proceed down the hall. I turn the corner and see the table that we are heading for, I see the chairs lined against the walls, and I see the women sitting in the chairs. I get closer and I now see that these moms are in fact, not just like me...

For starters, they all have about 10 years on me, some more. That's no big deal though, it's their faces that are different... they aren't smiling... I now see it all over their faces, a look I've seen plenty of times before. I'm not paranoid, I know the face, I've heard the comments that generally go along with that look... I'd like to say that I was just being paranoid.

The look says, "oh great... young girl, (to them I'm young) with a mixed child, he's probably a trouble maker, I'm sure she's not married, and if she is, he's probably not the father, well maybe he won't make it into my kids class."

I keep smiling, I will look past this, I will break their cold hard walls down, and then they will see how wrong they are... I check Julian in, nobody addresses me, only him, and they take him back for his screening. I look for a seat, find one and sit down with a smile. All the women look away now and return to their conversations. Eventually a woman sits next to me, and we do chat for a bit. She attempts to introduce me to some of the other moms and tells me all of their PTA rolls and responsibilities. Still, they do not acknowledge me and just talk to her.

I sit back with a smile, and listen, discussions of prestigious parties, and alcohol abuse, and affairs, and money.... all while waiting for their kindergartners to finish up. How could they judge me?!?! This is obnoxious, I can't believe I'm hearing this right now. Wow I can't believe they are openly talking about getting sloshed at "play dates" and planning their kids next outing, making sure it's somewhere they don't have to pay attention to them. Great moms...and they judge me because of the color of my kids skin, and my age.

I do consider the fact that I could be wrong, I really do try to make the best of it. Julian comes out, the teacher makes zero eye contact and walks away, I get up and tell the ladies it was "nice to meet them" (if that's what you call it) and the PTA president coldly says, "Bye now, good luck paying Seaford taxes" then snickers and walks away.

I was fuming, the back of my neck was tight, my forehead was wrinkled, I turned and walked away. Julian's hand in mine, smile on my face, we walked to the car and celebrated him for doing such a good job...

I told you this whole story, but none of it really matters.... It doesn't matter what they thought, it doesn't matter what they said, it doesn't matter what kind of faces they made...

My actions are what matter, my thoughts are what matter, I'm responsible for me, not them. I sat there angry, because I felt like they were judging me, and for an hour I listened to their conversations, and I judged them. I don't know them, I don't know their stories, I don't know their circumstances, and I sat there and judged them.

I was wrong, I was so very wrong... I am not a judge, I am not a prosecutor, it is not my place to condemn anyone, and as for what they think of me...well they aren't my judge either... I don't report to them, they won't be holding me accountable.

Grace= undeserved mercy

I'm daily given grace by God, something I don't deserve... Maybe they didn't deserve my grace, but I should have given it.

Next time I will, I will look down at my arm and see the tattoo on my wrist, grace...

Confession: Sometimes, no matter how hard I try, I forget to give others grace. Thank God, he doesn't forget to give me grace daily!