This morning, as I was walking through a parking lot en route to a Canadian Tire auto repair shop, I noticed a very young mom leaving her car with her infant daughter in her arms. She was heading toward the medical clinic in the mall, and left her car running. At first I thought that was strange but then realized that someone else was her driver. Someone she evidently didn’t respect all that much. I know that because as I was walking with this woman a few feet behind me she angrily said, “You’re just a piece of shit!” When I turned around she embarrassingly said, “No, not the baby… I’m not talking to her.” I could sense she was referring to her driver, who I assumed was her mom. “Glad you weren’t talking to me,” I said. She just turned red and briskly entered the clinic doors.
I was kind of shocked for a minute or two. Her outburst reminded me of a time when I told my mom to F%&* off in a Canadian Tire store when I was 15 years old. I still can’t believe I did that. I often wish I could take it back.
A few minutes ago I got off the phone with my mother. She’s going into minor surgery tomorrow and I knew she was feeling anxious, so I thought I’d call. I’d already spoken to her twice this week, each time thinking I could maybe say a prayer for her, but avoided the unease of bringing it up. This time I screwed up the courage to ask her if I could. Her immediate response was that she was just going to ask me to do the same. And so I prayed for and with my mom… and the words flowed in a ‘just right’ kind of way. After I said, Amen, my mom thanked me and through tears said, “That was so beautiful John. I feel more peaceful already.”
Penitent prayerful words covering over a multitude of verbal sins.