Last night I put a carton of ice cream on the counter to soften. I ruined our ice cream scoop when trying to scoop ice cream that was as hard as a rock. It bent in my hand as the ice cream resisted being scooped. It was stubborn, that ice cream.
I resist. I resist simple changes, such as bill paying online. I know how easy it is; I paid my brother’s bills online for him when he was in the hospital after a serious accident. Yet still I resist, writing checks and mailing them in every month. There’s something I enjoy about sitting down with my checkbook. I learned how to write checks a long time ago, in Consumer Education during high school.
Lily resists. I put broccoli on her plate, and she tells me “Broccoli is gross!” She used to eat broccoli all the time, but now she’s four. If I say nothing; do nothing, at the end of dinner, the broccoli has been eaten; perhaps by ignoring her there is nothing to resist. She becomes soft like ice cream.
Emmy resists. She can have the wettest, poopiest diaper, and yet she doesn’t want to stop what she is doing to have it changed. She will wake up in the morning, not even be doing anything yet, and still she resists. I need to distract her, make the diaper change fun before she stops crying and wriggling away from me.
Ed resists. He admits he dislikes change. He still prefers the Lutheran Hymnal as opposed to the Lutheran Book of Worship. Our church switched hymnals in 1980. Yes, Ed resists change.
What do you resist?