I did the hard thing. That thing I'd rather clean than do. And it wasn't that hard. What was hard was the outcome. Because hearts were hardened, though I tried to leave mine soft.
Why so often, is the hard thing, the right thing?
Why do our words, even when spoken in love, seem sometimes to not be really heard?
More than I hate conflict, I hate having my words misconstrued. I tend to want to hash it out. Continue a conversation once started until it's resolved.
Confession: I really just want the last word. I want to defend myself. I forget that this is not my job. I forget that God asks me to 'speak the truth in love' and then give it over. The results are His. It's not about me.