I remember meeting an apoplectic woman driving a rather large tank of a car. We faced off in a dirt lot that served as overflow parking for the parish festival.

I didn't know what to make of the situation. I manuevered my subcompact as far to the right of the aisle as it could be as the lady's Hidenberg barreled toward me. It had materialized from the midst of a dust cloud. She was driving down the middle of the aisle. She was coming fast.

When she spotted ME, obstructing HER way, her face seemed to melt away and reassemble. She had become ferral. Her face twisted and she jerked violently in her seat like she was being defibrillated and having a seizure at the same time. I had no doubt that if she had a machete, she would've halved me like a watermelon. I was somewhat shocked she didn't try roll over my compact like it was a Hotwheel.


At the last second, lurching to the left and nearly sideswiping three parked cars, she stirred up a dust storm and screeched out of the lot into the street. I heard her peel away. Various expletives got tossed out of her open window as she left.

Nearly speechless, I found a parking space, the only one I could find in that lot. Perhaps she had spotted it too only to realize that it was too small for her too big car.

That all happened maybe 5 years ago. But it's what I remembered when I read St. Francis de Sales words:

"Some say it is unreasonable to be courteous and gentle with a reckless person who insults you for no reason at all. I have made a pact with my tongue; not to speak when my heart is disturbed."
I didn't say anything to her. I didn't chase her down. I didn't try to throw a rock at her as she left. But I also don't ever remember making a pact with my tongue. Maybe my man Francis had my back that day.

2 Responses so far.

  1. Nod says:

    Wow, I rather liked your exposition. I was intrigued, entertained, and then edified. Thanks.

  2. Son says:

    Any time. I hope that woman knows Francis de Sales is praying for her...

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