The Muffin Police

Yes, that's right, the Muffin Police. What in the world or who in the world are the Muffin Police, you ask? Well, I thought I would let everyone in on this title, first received by my dad several years ago. It's been a very helpful three words over the years, so much so, that I brought it into my marriage with me so that my husband could use it in appropriate situations. I'm sure that it is something we will continue using for years to come. I am very sad to say that I earn this title much too often. You see, it's actually an undesirable descriptor. Shall I tell you where it came from?
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There was a very simple, all too common happening one evening at a restaurant that my parents were dining at years ago. First, let me tell you one thing about my parents.... well, I don't think I need to. Let the story speak for itself. So they were eating at this restaurant that served muffins before your meal came, you know, instead of rolls or other bread. My dad watched as a woman in a booth near them stuffed the yummy little muffins in her purse and then asked for more when the waiter came by. My dad was just about to walk to her booth and say something like "What if everybody that ate here took a whole basket of muffins home with them? Do you think the restaurant would mind?" or something even wittier and more cutting than that. (He's very witty. I can be too, unfortunately.) My mom stopped him before he could get up and asked "Are you the Muffin Police?"
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What a great question that has been for my life. Over and over again, I have asked myself whether or not I want to wear the badge of the Muffin Police. It's a position, unfortunately, that I was trained for all my life. Excellence with a dash of perfectionism, goals with a lack of grace, critical thinking with a pinch of criticism and standards with a smattering of legalism are the classes at the academy for Muffin Police. I took all of them. It's been somewhat of a joke. A way to diffuse a thought or feeling that I need to "fix" something or someone because my eagle eye caught them in sin. It's a way to laugh at the urge and, for a moment, see that it is useless and foolish.
I could tell you at least five anecdotes even from just the past couple of days where I have had to stop my thoughts from traveling on their judgemental pathway. That path is so well worn, it's a rut now, a trough. My mind has practiced that route over and over and over and over.
But now that I have a precious girl's heart in my care, I can see that I have never dealt with my heart issue... the heart issues that cause me to whip out my badge and ticket pad and begin to strut over to the unsuspecting individual. It's no laughing matter anymore. I don't want my daughter to take the same classes at The Academy that I did. I want to teach excellence balanced with the recognition of her individuality. I want to teach goals infused with grace, mercy and encouragement. I want to teach critical thinking that divides joint from marrow, distinguishes black from white from gray and yet refuses to criticize. I want to teach the standards of the Word with a deep understanding of the issues of the heart.
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God help me!! Help me teach what I never learned. Teach me, so I can teach her. Oh God, help.