Warning: after ample self-criticism, I'm going to boast about my discovery.
I was in a hurry to get to the parking lot
so I could begin my afternoon run
so I could get my dog-walking done
so I could cool off in the pool
so I could take a shower
so I could make a big salad
so I could sit and watch the sunset.
But I was behind a Big-Wheeled Pickup Truck that was moseying only 18 mph in a 35 zone. From about two feet behind his tailgate, I could not see any reason the young man was driving so slow. He was young but not a new driver. He was not on his cell phone. He did not even seem to be talking to his passenger buddy. He was just creeping along a not-busy street.
As he approached his turn, he slowed down even more, almost to a standstill. I was almost to the parking lot. It was just the other side of his intended turn.
I gave in to my impatience. I hit my horn. No gentle beep, I gave him three strident honks. He looked in his rear view mirror and the cock of his head told me he was not happy at my honks.
He turned right. I pulled into the parking lot on the left. I checked my rear view mirror and saw his brake lights as he started his U turn. I stayed in my car. An exchange of words was in the making.
His big truck pulls up beside my car. We push-button our windows down.
He asked why I honked.
I told him.
He told me what I to do.
I told him I preferred to run right now, thank you.
He pulled away. He yelled over his shoulder, "Slow down, old bastard."
That was a twofer insult: old and bastard!
I got out of my car, stretched a bit, and began to run. I concentrated on relaxing. I tried to forgive him his temper, his words, his need to confront.
But my mind worked against forgiving. My thoughts stayed on his need to turn around, to insult me, to show he wasn't afraid of me. My feet struck the pavement harder than usual.
Over all that I heard my heart remind me of the dozen times I've read or been told or seen that forgiveness has to start with me. Before I can effectively forgive anyone else, I must first forgive myself.
That shortened my stride and slowed my pace. I began to say aloud the prayer, "I forgive myself my past mistakes and present shortcomings..."
I quickly added, "And right now, God, I forgive myself my own impatience. I let go of my feeling superior and being sarcastic as I spoke to the other driver. I release these to You, God, with my thanks."
At once, it was easy to forgive that other driver. The simple acts I'd held against him were suddenly just that: simple. So simple I felt them drift away from me.
My second twofer: two forgivenesses that made the whole much stronger.
I noticed I was running smoothly again. My pace was faster, my stride was longer than it had been before.
Twofer number three!
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