“Confess your faults on to another that ye may be healed.” So says the Apostle John.
And now our Word Press daily prompt is in agreement with this wisdom.
“How do I have them? Let me count the ways.
I have them to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach…”
(With apologies to Liz Browning)
But which is actually my worst fault? Maybe that depends on who you ask. The ones that cause me personally the most trouble?
The first thing that came to mind was Wishy-washy-ness. Being indecisive. I wobble around decisions like a calf on ice.
Going hand-in-glove with this fault is Procrastination — which links together indivisibly with my Poor concept of time.
Should you ask my family which fault causes them the most trouble they may list another, one I don’t consider anywhere near major. They may even say, “Spends too much time on the computer — responding to WP daily prompts.”
If you ask God what my worst quality is… Well, He knows me through and through. He’d likely say Pride and/or Self-justification. (As in Always Making Excuses.) It’s pretty hard to separate those two.
A fault or not a fault. That is the question!
Whether it be nobler in the mind to jump on board and later rue,
or hesitate until all the facts are in and miss the boat…
(My apologies to Will S.)
Being Analytical is one of my major faults. Like not being able to read a daily prompt without going into some deep analysis of exactly what a fault is, really — and to whom — and looking at the subject from different directions. (I missed my calling as political speech-writer.)
Being so analytical, I could have been a terrific research scientist, right? Being wishy-washy (or hesitant)? Well, they say “fools rush in.” Some “decisive” people jump to conclusions, land in wet cement, and stay there.
Your worst quality is often the flip side of your best quality.
My mother-in-law prided herself in being Stubborn. She was born in 1908, long before x-rays and other diagnostic tests that would have explained her deformity. An x-ray, when they were finally invented, revealed that she had no hip joints. They just never formed.
The only suggestion doctors back in 1910 could give her parents was, “Somebody must have dropped this baby.” This made her mother angry, for Grandma knew this wasn’t the case at all. Still, nothing could be done for the child back then; they just had to accept it.
In spite of that, and enduring constant pain, she did walk. Being number six in a family of fourteen, she wasn’t going to be left out of the action. She wasn’t catered to, either, though she was accepted and well treated at home. Her father was blind and she was less mobile than her siblings, so she became his eyes, read to him and did the family farm book-work.
She dared to marry and have a baby, a 9-lb boy born by cesarean. “That’s it!” the doctor ordered. “You can’t put your body through this again.”
Mom ignored the pain and walked almost all her life, cooking, canning, cleaning, playing ball with her son — all the things a normal farm wife would do. And she kept walking right up into her 90s. She walked long after arthritis had immobilized some of her cronies. When people would marvel at her ability, she’d answer, “I’m just so stubborn.”
The rest of us marveled at her amazing determination. Then again, there were times when her stubbornness really annoyed us, too. 🙂