Taming My Terrible Temper

That was a dumb thing to say,” Jerry taunted as we walked down the hall together.

I shrugged. “Guess so.” My wrong answer in seventh-grade English had been embarrassing enough. I didn’t want to be reminded.

“You guess?” Jerry’s laugh was shrill. “Listen, Carson, that was one of the all-time stupidest things of the year!”06

“You’ve said some pretty dumb things too,” I said softly.

Our words flew back and forth. Finally, I turned to my locker. Jerry shoved me. I stumbled, and my temper flared. I swung at him, lock in hand. The blow slammed into his forehead, and he groaned, staggering backward, blood seeping from a three-inch gash.

The principal called me in. I’d calmed down by then and apologized profusely. I was ashamed. Christians didn’t lose their temper. I apologized to Jerry, and the incident was closed.

And my temper? I forgot