There was a little girl, between the ages of three and four who I used to think was ADHD, or simply undisciplined and a general pain, too often clamoring for attention. One moment she was happy and kicking me on the couch as she squirmed around, the next thing she is all sad and crying about something. Quiet only when she sleeps. Then the light went on for me. She is a Psalm Child. Say what? Read all 150 psalms in order in which you find them in the bible. No one, not even monasteries do that. A psalm praising God, happy, full of gratitude is followed at times immediately after, with a psalm of whining, complaining about how God has abandoned them, and how lonely and forlorn the psalmist feels. Then love and compassion for all sentient beings. Then a desire for revenge. Wipe all my enemies. Then love of all enemies. On and on. The psalms are the inspired word of God, so believers tell me. I guess God is OK with all this back and forth, this highly charged emotional life. The little girl is a teacher for me. So she is OK now in my book. But please God, no kicking when I am watching dramatic sports' moments! I guess this plea is my psalm 151.