Gimme Hands

Everyone has their bad days. All humans, great and small, occasionally just need to have a nice, long nap before they bother with the world's challenges. I had never been an exception to this rule and on this particular day, there had been no time to take one - nor did I realize the need for extra sleep. All I understood was that people were being overly testy on my poor nerves: using my things, getting in my way, and forever creating inconvenient issues for me to solve.  It wasn't fair, nice or desirable and in turn, how could anyone expect me to meekly give in?

In other words - I was crabby. I had only recently been introduced to that word. It had been a day equally as dreadful as this one. My cousin Samantha and I had freshly graduated kindergarten and our mothers had contrived a celebration, complete with decorations, friends, and cake. To my chagrin, Samantha's name was written on the cake before mine and that obviously lowered me to a less important standing than hers, which immediately dampened my spirits.

The party was nice and all, but it's hard to enjoy yourself when your spirit feels damp and moldy - which, to be truthful, was how mine felt.

I was upstairs playing with a friend who, like everyone else that day, decided to be unkind to me. I wouldn't stand for it. "You're awfully crabby today," she sulked. (I didn't know what that word meant, but it was obvious to me that it was some form of a sophisticated insult.) "I am not!" I spit the last word like a bullet.

In the car, after a few silent minutes had passed, I piped up from the back seat: "Mom? What does 'crabby' mean?"

She explained it easily enough, "But where did you hear it?" I sighed, easing the pent-up frustration. "Sarah called me that," and I repeated what she told me. "Well," Mom replied, "Were you crabby?" I was more than indignant and replied with a firm "NO." "Well, you should try to be a little nicer to your friends, then they wouldn't say things like that."

I had known it was very true on that occasion, but today was such a terribly irritable affair that I was too busy to remember about being nice when others weren't.

We were visiting family and, as usual, a few of my many cousins were present. A couple of us decided to play in the back bedroom; our fun had just begun.

That is, it was fun for the first five minutes. Mostly fun, until Kara took the Minnie Mouse doll that I happened to need. She wouldn't give it to me, so I (peeved at her for being so mean) took it from her hands. Unfortunately, as soon as I had taken care of that issue, one of the cousins stole a baby blanket that was also a vital necessity. This cousin wasn't as compliant as Kara, however, and let out a howl that brought Mamaw to investigate.

My indignant cousin explained her side of the story while Mamaw listened, then tried reason with me. In my eyes, this situation was black and white - there was nothing to reason about. I needed the blanket, she had it and wouldn't give to me. She wasn't sharing.

"Now, Anna," Mamaw bent down close to me, "Don't you think you could let her play with it? She had it first. In a minute she'll be done and you can use it."

I shook my head. "I want it now."

All of a sudden, Mamaw's big golden-brown eyes grew very wide as she slowly reached around me and felt my back. I was terrified.

"Oh!" she gasped, "I feel a gimme hand starting to grow."

Gimme hands. Everyone in our family knew what those were. The idea came from a story that we all knew quite well: A selfish little boy wanted all of his friends' things and was forever grabbing them away from his playmates. His habit became so horrible that every time he went to grab something from someone, a new arm popped out to carry his new possession; he kept grabbing until he looked very much like an octopus, waving coveted treasures with each tentacle. In the end, nobody would play with him anymore.

I looked back into Mamaw's eyes and clawed at my back with the two arms I already had, trying to feel for any lumps. She had never lied to me before - in fact, she always taught us that lying was a terrible sin - so I knew she was incapable of it.

"No, there's not..." But as I spoke these words, I wasn't sure what to think.

She touched my side this time, "Ooh, and there's another one." I looked down, incredulously, patting my ribcage. There was nothing there. I didn't say anything, but it shocked me that Mamaw would stoop so low as to tell a direct lie to my face; Did she really think I was that ignorant?

Eventually we settled the argument, but I was stunned by Mamaw's untruth. Only time and attained wisdom would show me how Mamaw was actually trying to teach me a lesson and settle the dispute - she wasn't intending to tell a falsehood.

Really, my problems weren't anyone's fault but mine. Too often we blame our troubles on other people, when, really, if we just asked the Lord to help us with our attitude about things, life would be a whole lot easier for everyone.