Crying Over Monk-Monk
When I was about 10, I was still very immature in many ways. One of those ways was my stuffed monkey, Monk-Monk. I loved Monk-Monk. My grandmother, Mama Dunk, gave him to me when I was about five for a Christmas present. I can still remember opening the box; he was in a shoebox. Never again… I thought. He was too precious to be in a mere shoebox. You have to understand, Monk-Monk gave me something I had a hard time finding anywhere else - unconditional love. I would lie in bed at night, and tell Monk-Monk all my woes and cares (as many as a 6 year old has) and he never judged me or argued with me. He simply listened, and I knew he loved me. Most importantly, he never made fun of me like most of the kids at school. He loved me.
My sister, Shannon, and my cousin, Terry, loved to tease me. Their favorite thing to do was mess with Monk-Monk. It would devastate me. They were so mean that once they hung him up in a china berry tree, suspended by fishing wire. Also included was a shoe of mine, a shirt, and well... some “unmentionables.” I would of course, as any good princess would, run to my grandmother, Granny Jones, and whine about how horrible they were treating me. That was only the tip of the things they did to Monk-Monk, and every time I would complain about how mean they were, Granny Jones would always tell me the same thing, “If you just ignore them they will quit.”
One day after Granny and I returned from a trip to the store, sure enough, as we walked in the door, there dangling above our heads, was Monk-Monk, suspended from the door chain by his neck. I was devastated. Absolutely mortified that my beloved was treated so… I ignored it though. I went straight to my bed, and cried myself to sleep. It took all the strength I had, and I probably prayed to God for more, to help me not go get Monk-Monk down. But guess what? Granny was right! That was the last time they ever tortured Monk-Monk.
As I was thinking about this, I was struck by how Granny didn’t punish them; she taught me how to deal with it. I think she realized something important; I can’t control others; I can’t make them not tease me; I can only control me. I can act (consider their actions and respond), and not react.
There will always be bullies and there will always be someone to irritate you. Will you act or react? Will you choose to,
Always do for other people everything you want them to do for you.
Or are you going to go cry over Monk-Monk?