Since yesterday was Valentine’s Day, I decided to take my own advice and show a little extra love to my girlfriends – my dearly beloved palentines.
After all, Valentines are nice, but palentines are spice!
So I hopped in my car, which was filled with floating pink helium balloon hearts hand labeled “Palentine,” to make quick but secret deliveries to my Bible study heart sisters (we’ve had a fantabulous neighborhood Bible study going for about six years now).
On a rather tight schedule (who isn’t?), I pulled into the driveway of the second house, streaked up to the door, left the balloon, which was anchored by a scented candle and bit of candy (I mean really, what says “You’re special” better than chocolate?), and rushed back to my car.
Just as I opened the door, a UPS truck pulled up right behind me, blocking the driveway and stymieing my exit.
I waited (somewhat impatiently) for the driver to locate the package and as his rather large body filled the truck doorway, I said, “Do you mind pulling forward? I’m trying to leave.”
Ignoring my request, he took his time writing something down, then exited the still running truck and casually sauntered up the driveway toward me.
Of course, by the time he reached me, my mounting blood pressure was beginning to melt my earrings.
“I have a package for you,” he said, shoving the box toward me, not in a friendly sort of way.
“It’s not for me; I don’t live here,” I replied.
“Oh,” he said, “Then what are you doing here?” I was a little floored by his bluntness but resisted the temptation to reply in kind, “It’s none of your business.”
“Just making a delivery,” says I, climbing into the drivers seat while clearing a hole to sit among all the bobbing heart balloons and cranking my car to indicate my hurry.
He glanced back at his truck, apprising the situation. He could have easily hopped back in and pulled forward a few feet to let me out. But no, with a malicious gleam in his eye (or could it have just been the sun?), he turned and continued up the driveway, muttering, “So am I.”
So there I sat with no other choice, waiting. And gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. And fuming.
I was so angry, I knew I needed to BARF. So I did. (An anger management tool I’ve used for years.)
B: Back off
B: I was stuck in the car, so the only way I could put a little distance between me and the situation was to turn on my local Christian radio station. Yep, listening to Toby Mac sing “It ain’t over yet!” did help me cool off a little and begin to gain new perspective.
A: Admitting I was miffed at this stranger’s insensitivity and selfishness was easy.
R: Redirecting my anger toward the real culprit of all wickedness – Satan – was harder. I couldn’t shake my mental image of the devil wearing a brown uniform and hat.
F: I was just starting to work on the forgiveness part when the UPS guy headed back down the driveway toward his truck. As he passed my car window, he threw a nasty little smirk my way, as if to proclaim himself winner of our little standoff.
Humph. Maybe he was. I know I wasn’t.
I hate to admit it, but I’m still annoyed at this man I’ll never see again, a whole day later. I’m stalled in the forgiveness stage and wondering why, on a day supposedly overflowing with love and goodwill, I ended up stewing in all the wrong juices.
Okay, BBFFs (Blessed Blog Friends Forever) – I need your advice. What would you do? What would Jesus do?