I was an a-hole. At church. In front of my kids.

I like to think of myself as a genuinely nice person, but I have moments that make it obvious I have a long way to go.

Usually, I can go from nice mode to mean mode in situations that most people can relate to . . . in traffic, in a long line on a hot day, in the grocery store with three small kids, when the dog eats all the cookies cooling on the counter, etc.

I don’t like it that those situations bring out the worst in me, but I don’t beat myself up too badly because they are “acceptable” situations for frustration.

But when I behaved badly at church, after a compelling sermon and a beautiful communion, I realized I’m capable of being a pretty rotten person.

And my kids witnessed the whole thing, which made it even worse.

As we were leaving church, a nice woman approached, and (based on the last few interactions with the same woman) I assumed she was going to ask us to do something.  We wanted to leave quickly, so I decided to preempt any requests by backing up while waving my hand and saying something like, “We can’t help with postcards today – we have somewhere to be.” She went on to say that she just wanted to say thank you, and I interrupted her with something else and tried to make a hasty exit, but finally allowed her to finish. At that point, she gave all the kids a small gift card for helping her during the children’s sermon.  Aaaaand I felt like a jerk.

We walked in silence to the parking lot, and then I said, “I was rude to her.”  My whole family agreed, and Keith added, “What was that?”

“I should apologize,” I said.  Again, lots of honest agreement.

So we came home and I promptly put together an email apologizing for being a prickly curmudgeon and read it to the kids, who approved.  Thankfully, she responded quickly and was very gracious and forgiving.

But it still bothered me. How could I have been so rude to such a nice person? How could I recite the Lord’s Prayer and be demon possessed ten minutes later?

I am a direct person, and I have no trouble being honest, saying “no,” etc.  And I absolutely hate getting guilted into things, so I can be a little “abrupt,” in order to avoid this.  But still, I always want to be kind.

I guess I turned out more like my Dad than my Mom. (sorry to throw you under the bus here, Dad!)  I can never recall a time when Mom was not kind (I found out that she could be pushed into confrontation, and she was damn good at it, but it took A LOT to get her to that point).  But my Dad was always direct, never shied away from conflict, and was always honest, even if it made people uncomfortable.  I’m glad I have both of their examples, and was hoping I’d fall somewhere in the middle, but I’m tipping the scales more towards my Dad’s temperament, when it comes to interacting with people.

I was first confronted with my “unkindness” when Casey came to live with us.  She hated conflict and preferred to avoid.  I hated conflict, but preferred to deal with it.  I was very direct.  She was passive aggressive.  As you can imagine, it took some time for us to figure out how to communicate.

Once, when we were at the mall together, she said, “Sometimes you sound so mean.”  This came right after we passed one of those kiosks where they want to put lotion on your hands and I breezed passed, saying, “Nope, not interested.” (or something like that)  She also pointed out that I was terse when someone asked at the checkout asked if I wanted to donate toward charity, and I said, “No.”  I told her I was just being honest in those situations and didn’t think that was “mean” at all – I don’t want to be sucked into doing something I don’t want to do for the sake of being perceived as “nice.”  It’s not worth it.

I heard someone say (with I could remember who), “I’d rather be disliked for who I am, than liked for who I’m not.”  Yes.  Yes.  Yes.

But you can also be direct, be authentic, be honest and still be kind.  This is what I strive to teach the kids . . . be firm, but be kind. I fail miserably at times, but I’m trying.

Years ago, I wrote about how my kids picked up a word from a cartoon and started calling me “NEAN mommy” . . . “nean” meaning “nice mean.”  Carlie would regularly ask me, “How can you be so nice and so mean at the same time?” and I’d tell her it is a gift that God gives mommies.  Her Children Will Arise and Call Her . . . NEAN

I’m still okay with “nice mean” because sometimes being honest is the nicest thing you can do.  It often seems mean to discipline your kids, but you know it’s the kind thing to do in the long run.  It might seem mean to say, “no,” but it’s far kinder than agreeing to something you don’t want to do and then doing it with resentment.

But in the church incident I described, I was not being “nean,” I was just being a presumptuous a-hole. I know the difference.  The kids know the difference too.

All I can do is pray that somehow God will use this negative example to teach them how to acknowledge their failures and be willing to sincerely apologize.

And there’s hope for them because they have a really nice Dad – also direct, but does a better job at being firm but kind and using humor to diffuse conflict.  He also knows how to be “nean.” (example:  words he has used, when I have asked the simple question, “How does this look?” “school marmish,” “garish,” “like clown shoes,” “matronly,” boring,” etc.  And one of my favorite reactions, when I was having a mean moment, Keith calmly said, “If I have done something to make you mad, then you need to tell me, but if I haven’t, then you owe me an apology.” Love that man.)

Keith is discerning and actually forms thoughts in his head before they exit his mouth.  I hope the kids will be more like him.

But they’ll probably end up in therapy, recalling stories of being raised by a prickly curmudgeon mother who wasn’t even nice to people at church.

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