Why Yall Tryin To Test The Jesus In Me

Okay, let's be real for a second. Why y'all always gotta poke the bear? Or, in this case, test the Jesus in me?

I'm walking around, minding my own business. Maybe humming a little tune. Probably thinking about what's for dinner. Then BAM! Someone decides to unleash the kraken, or in my case, unleash my barely contained inner rage.

It’s like some people wake up and think, "Today is the day I find out just how much patience Brenda actually has." Newsflash: It's not a lot. We’re talking, like, mayyybe enough for a toddler having a tantrum over a misplaced sippy cup. Anything more than that? You're pushing your luck.

I mean, I try. I really do. I go to church (sometimes). I volunteer (occasionally). I even try to remember to say "please" and "thank you" (most of the time). But there's a limit. A very, very thin line drawn in the sand with the words "Don't Cross" written in sparkly glitter glue.

And yet, people insist on toeing that line. They see the glitter and think, "Ooh, pretty! I wonder if she'll actually yell if I step on it?" Spoiler alert: Yes. Yes, I will yell. Probably not a shout, maybe more of a forceful whisper. But yelling nonetheless.

Maybe it’s the slow walkers in the grocery store. You know, the ones who treat the aisle like a runway, completely oblivious to the twenty other people trying to grab a box of cereal. Or perhaps it's the person on the phone in the library talking louder than a rock concert. Honestly, the audacity is astounding!

Then there are the repeat offenders. The ones who know exactly what buttons to push. My family. I’m looking at you guys! You think you're being funny. You think you're being cute. But you're actually just shortening my lifespan by several years, each and every time.

And let's not even get started on customer service. I swear, some companies train their employees to be as unhelpful and frustrating as humanly possible. You call with a simple question, and suddenly you're trapped in a phone tree labyrinth, listening to elevator music that makes you want to throw your phone out the window.

Is It Just Me?

Am I the only one who feels this way? Is my tolerance level exceptionally low? Probably. But I suspect there are others out there who secretly feel the same. You're just too polite to say anything. I, on the other hand, have no such filter.

I try to remember what Jesus would do. He probably wouldn't passive-aggressively comment about your driving skills. He wouldn't "forget" to refill the coffee pot after using the last of it. He wouldn't hide your favorite socks. But honestly, I’m not Jesus. I’m just Brenda, and Brenda is trying her best.

So, please. I'm begging you. For the sake of my sanity, and for the preservation of what little Jesus I have left, stop testing me. Stop pushing my buttons. Stop making me count to ten. Just be nice. Be considerate. Be… normal.

Because the alternative? The alternative is me snapping. And trust me, you don’t want to see Brenda snap. It's not pretty. It involves dramatic sighs, eye rolls that could curdle milk, and possibly a strongly worded email.

Just a friendly reminder. Let sleeping dogs lie. And let Brenda have her coffee.

Consider yourselves warned.