Vengeance is not mine. But sometimes I want to pick it up and hold it for a minute.

There has always been one thing about my husband that bugs me above all else. It's his inability to hold a grudge or be angry with anyone for longer than 0.25 seconds. For the longest time I have struggled with this defect in him and have tried to help him correct it. Not only can he forgive and forget with the blink of an eye - he also seems to take joy in the process. His inability to be unforgiving bothers me so much that I have had to work out reasons why he is able to move on after a painful event, and I am not. Is it because he is more spiritual than me? Is he holier than me? Better than me? That can't be it. So I decided yesterday that this defect of non-grudge holding can only be due to biology. He's a man. A single tasker. I am a woman. A multi-tasker. So - the reason he can't hold a grudge is because he can only do one thing at a time. For instance, if he's been hurt and wants to fish - he can ONLY think of the fishing - not the hurt. He is biologically incapable of fishing and holding a grudge at the same time - because that would fall under mulitasking.
I, on the other hand, can hold the grudge in one hand, the kids in the other, pay bills in the other part of my mind, wonder if the dogs have water, check to see if the coffee pot is on, plan on what the kids will wear for picture day, remind myself to catch Sarah Palin on Leno, send the World Vision kid a birthday card, wonder how my mom is, relive the moment in Superbowl 44 when Porter read Manning's pass like a Dick and Jane book and ran gloriously into the end zone, etc. - all at once. I don't have to put my grudge down - ever. Add the PMS factor to this and my excuse for grudge holding is unchallengable. I'm either about to PMS, PMS'ing or just getting over my PMS. Which means there are only 3 days of the month that I am normal. And usually...I try to sleep through those. Throw in a full moon and I could end up in jail.
So yesterday we got wounded. Rob recovered. I have not.
We talked about it last night and I marveled at his ability to forgive and move on- and I blamed his simple, single tasking mind for the reason he could skip through the house gleefully while I was busy envisioning stabbing this person who hurt us in eyeballs with very sharp No.2 pencils.
I share my thoughts of eyeball stabbing with my husband.
"You're still thinking about that?" he asks. "Let it go."
"Let it go, let it go??? But he __________________________________________!!" I exclaim.
"Rhonda, you have to start seeing people the way God sees them. We don't know what kind of month he's had. We don't know what he's been told, what he's been through...we don't know what his health is like, or his family. I have to look at him and say to myself, 'there but for the grace of God go I.'"
I hate it when he throws himself into "wise Pastor" mode. It's hard to argue with someone who is quoting scripture.
Rob has always had a knack for loving stupid people. The stupider they are - the more he seems to love them. He wants to help them - he wants to cheer them on their spiritual journey. Stupid people are attracted to him. He gives the stupidest people the benefit of the doubt. One stupid person in particular struggled with a drug addiction that was so profound - he was abandoned by everyone around him. Except Rob.
"Rob....he's not going to change, give up." I told him that. Everyone told him that.
The guy would be at the altar weeping one minute and in jail the next.
"Sometimes," he told me, "people just need one person to believe in them. If he has to ride the altar to heaven....let it be the altar in my church."
Ministry is full, full, full of stupid people. If it weren't for all the stupid people, ministry would be so much more fun.
So I was in bed last night lamenting over the grudge that consumed me.
"Stop talking about it," said my noble, single-tasking husband.
"Let's just pray for him, right now...Dear Lord we just ask...."
I couldn't do it. I crossed my arms beneath the covers.
"I'm not ready to pray for him yet," I told God while Rob went on.
I want to get up and sharpen pencils.
Maybe when my hormones settle down...or when the moon is just a crescent...maybe then I can pray for him.
Like St. Augustine prayed: "Lord, make me good. But not yet."
When I came to from my own prayer, Rob was sound asleep. The grudge he could rightfully carry was not on him. It's then that I had to admit: It is not Rob's biology that makes it impossible for him to carry a grudge. It is his preoccupation with his mighty God. He's so busy with his single task of loving God, he can't do anything else.
So since Rob is not going to carry his grudge, I slip it onto my back beside mine - he's so lucky that I am a multi-tasker - Able to bear his grudge and my own simultaneously.
And I am lucky too...that not only does he love stupid people, he marries them.