A funny little thing happened to me the other day…
My daughter tells me that I should never say that, because despite my best efforts, things are never as funny when I retell them as they were when they actually happened.
Well, a funny thing did happen to me the other day. But it was also a convicting thing, and hopefully, a lesson that I won’t soon forget. It came in the form or an orange blouse.
I attend a weekly study group, and at times, I fall behind in the reading ‘assignments.’ Each assignment consists of easy 10-15 minute passages of thought provoking material. Today, I was behind, but my early arrival afforded me the necessary 15 minutes to quickly get up to speed on my reading. As parking spaces quickly filled up in the small parking area nearby, I chose an unmarked spot on the outer circle of the parking lot, thinking I could make my getaway easily by leaving only a little space in front of my car.
I settled down with the dregs of my morning java, and opened my book.
Forgiveness.
“Oh this one will be a breeze,” I thought. Being raised in the church, I had heard innumerable sermons on the topic, and knew that I was probably an expert on this one. I breezed quickly through the chapter, looking up only when a flash caught my eye. A car was coming towards me (the wrong way) into the parking lot. I looked behind to see that the lot was full, and she was probably going to have to back up in light of the other cars heading towards her.
Suddenly, to my dismay, she darted forward to edge her car towards my front bumper. Closer and closer she came until she finally stopped. There couldn’t be more than 6 inches between my bumper and hers. Without attempting to attract attention, I looked behind to see that 4 other cars had solidly parked behind me. I was stuck. Trapped. Pinned in. Done for.
My irritation at traffic issues is probably not unlike many of you reading this post. I watched in stunned surprise as a beautiful, regal woman dressed in a bright orange blouse stepped from the sports car parked nearly touching my family car. She walked back several times, apparently wondering if she had hit my car. Except for the knowing that I would have felt a bump, I was thinking the same thing. Apparently her assessment satisfied her, and she hurriedly walked away.
What to do now? Leave a little note on her car? Take her license plate number? Roll the window down and offer my parking wisdom to her before she escaped? Memorize her clothes and have a few choice words with her inside the building? The chances were good that she was going to the same place I was, so conviction got the best of me, and I decided to wait it out. After all, I still had 2 pages left to read in my chapters on ‘Forgiveness.’
The irony of the situation did not escape me. Surely forgiveness does not include traffic offenses, especially by beautiful women who drive sports cars! I walked into the building, trying my best to walk slowly and confidently, while my heart began to be pricked at the internal offense that was building.
The familiar chatter of women greeted me, and I turned to see none other than the woman in the orange blouse. Here’s where I would really be slapped with my resolve (or lack of it) for forgiveness. Ok, it was a small thing, but completely blocking someone in? Really? Surely this was not a Christian woman.
The confrontation and internal struggle in my heart was quiet but unmistakable. By the time our meeting was called to order, I had resigned myself to waiting as long as needed until it was time for me to go. This was not that big of a deal, and surely I could be patient. I would know when she left the room. The orange blouse would be difficult to miss.
The usual preliminary announcements commenced, and after short order, our speaker was introduced. She was a prestigious community member with numerous accolades and an impressive list of accomplishments. I was excited to hear from this well of wisdom. We all turned to see her, and to my shock, the woman in the orange blouse gracefully took the microphone.
My internal dilemma grew deeper, and I was glad my secret was safe. No one will ever know, I thought, as I prayed my flushed face wasn’t obvious. I settled my beating heart, and listened as she told her story.
During the next 30 minutes, the speaker with the orange blouse, contrary to her position and personality, exposed her own hurtful & embarrassing past, including mistreatment bordering on abuse from a step father. She continued through misty eyes and a shaky voice to confess her bitterness towards him, and finally to express the journey she took towards forgiving the man who had stolen her childhood and her innocence.
Afterward, the table discussions blurred in my ears, and I heard God gently speak to me the parable of the man who had been forgiven a great debt. After receiving this forgiveness, the man went out and demanded a few pennies he was owed by another man, and even had him thrown in jail when he couldn’t pay. I did not want my life to be like that of the ungrateful man, forgiven of a great debt yet unwilling to forgive others. What a small thing the parking lot incident seemed to be now in light of the forgiveness this woman had released to her abuser and shared with a group of total strangers.
The pounding of my heart increased as I knew I had to expose my own experience and share my story. This personal exposure would solidify my own conviction and resolve, and perhaps my story could help others too. I had the grace that day when this ‘funny confession’ I had really was funny. And poignant. And convicting. And memorable.
I’m wearing an orange sweater today, and I think of the orange blouse that imprinted on my heart that day a message of forgiveness. It is not just the big things that need to be washed away, but more often for me, it’s the little things. The last piece of gum taken from my purse the day before a big interview. The spilled juice on my freshly mopped floor. The car that parked way too close to me in a crowded lot.
God came to me that day in the form of a beautiful woman in an orange blouse, and spoke a message of forgiveness that I will not soon forget.