Today's Saturday Slant is a good one. It asks "When was enough, enough?" (I highly recommend you read it, as this quote doesn't do it justice.)

This one is really hard for me. I am typically very gentle, quiet, and mild. I've never been in an actual physical fight. I'm very good at swallowing my comments, taking the crud, and just turning around. I suppose this is a very good thing, as being a military wife, you have lots of crud to put up with. When I do reach that boiling point I run to my Lord with the hurt, pain, and anger instead of pushing back at the source of it.

I sat for a long time, trying to recall a time where I had just finally had it. There was that time I quit because my manager was an unbelievable ...... well, I can't say it, cause I'm trying to 'tame my tongue'. But I don't think that really qualifies for what was asked for. Plenty of times I've reached the end of my rope with my children, but I just send them to bed, and that's taken care of. Hmm.... I'm going to have to dig really deep for this one.

The one time that comes to mind happened a long, long, long time ago. I want to estimate I was in the fourth grade or there about. See, I was never a popular one in school. The only way I was popular is that everyone loved to pick on the poor little white girl. (That would be me.) Especially on the bus, or at the bus stop. I got good at looking out the window, or just quickly walking away. All the while trying my best to not let tears come to my eyes. Then when I'd get home I'd ball for a good while. My parents would tell me to "just ignore them" or "laugh at them". Yeah, all easier said than done. It doesn't work.

Then there was this one girl, Kathy. Oh that girl got under my skin like no other. She lived two streets down from me. When the bus would drop us off at the end of the day, she always had to get in a few jabs. She loved to terrorize me with her names and such. Then the verbal attacks gave way to pebbles and rocks being thrown at me. She wasn't a very good aim, and for the most part she'd miss or hit my lower legs. I could walk fast and get home soon enough.

Then came the day. She had made something in art class. It was clay that had been hardened in the kiln. She must have decided that terrorizing me was more important than her project, because she broke it and started to throw it's pieces at me. While clutching my books, and yelling at her to stop, she was behind me laughing all the while and flinging pieces of it at me. Then I felt it.

A sharp edge had nailed me right in the back of the head and damn did it hurt. Without even thinking, I slammed my books to the ground, quickly turned around on one heel and stared her down. Even though it was all merely seconds, I can recall the whole thing in slow motion as if it was on a sitcom on television. The other children staring at me absolutely speechless. I could feel the anger raise up inside me, my cheeks burned as I started to walk towards her. As my fist formed and clenched tighter and tighter, I calculated every move I'd make in my head. I was determined to sock her, and I was going to sock her good.

I don't recall having actually said anything, but maybe I did. All I remember is the look of absolute fear on her face as she started screaming. She jolted right past me, yelling someone's name. Suddenly disappointment and relief both flooded over me. On one hand I really did want to hit her good. On the other, at least now I wouldn't get in trouble.

I went back to pick up my books, just to see her aunt coming around the corner. And oh, was she pissed at me. She was yelling at me and calling me names. I usually had a lot of respect for adults, but I told her to shut up. I couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth. I had a gut feeling I'd get punished for it, but I didn't care. It was worth it to me. As she had one arm wrapped around Kathy who was clinging to her side, she swore up and down she was going to talk to my parents. I made damn sure to tell my parents my side of the story first thing when I got home. I figured the punishment would be lesser if they heard it from me first.

That whole afternoon doing my chores in the yard, I kept looking at the road awaiting the messenger of doom. But it turned out that her Aunt never came by, and I never got punished. Kathy stopped picking on me, and it was a long while before the other kids started back up. And to think I never actually touched her.

Being all grown up and looking back on it I can't help but wonder a few things. Kathy had a weight problem, she lived with her grandma and aunt in a small mobile home. I suspect there were some major family issues. I can't help but wonder what pain she was trying to take out on me.

To this day I'm glad I've never actually gotten into a fight. I do want my husband to teach my children how to fight. As long as they don't start conflicts, I want them to be able to end them. If I had known how to stand my ground, I probably would have done it earlier and had far less pain growing up. But then again, all my experiences have led me to who I am today. I'm rather content with that.