Honk if you’re Human

I lingered too long at a stoplight the other night on my way home after meeting with Pastor C. While I waited for my “green-means-go” signal, I looked down at my phone ever-so-briefly* so that I could tend to my people. Both of them had been in a holding pattern; waiting for me while I nurtured my spirit.


*I've no idea how long I was actually looking at my phone.  I think it was for the briefest of moments.  It could have been the briefest of 16 (moments).

While I had been contemplating the fate of my eternal soul, my husband had lobbed a few (dozen) questions at my phone about the Cockapoo-v-fleas crisis he was fielding with the vet. And, where in the world was I, anyway? Wasn’t I supposed to be home by now? Should he be worried?

The boy, too, was waiting on his müber (mom-über) to respond to the several texts/calls he had sent, and he was beginning to make threats against my five-star rating. The mama was supposed to deposit him at someone’s house for bring-a-friend-to-youth-group night. But he, too, was forced to wait on my soul-care. And where in the world was I anyway? Didn’t I get his calls? He was supposed to be at Mila’s house at 6:15 and it was 6:05 already. Should he be worried?

Squooshy Interrupted

After I assured everyone that I was still on deck for Mom-duty and that I had not been raptured, I glanced at the ‘K’ updates. My friend’s husband, ‘K,’ had been in an accident that morning at work that left him burned on his face and torso. I quickly scrolled through the 14 missed texts in the group chat to make out how he was doing since being admitted to the burn unit. I felt myself dwelling on what a scary moment that must have been for my friend to receive that call. And for their boys. I could imagine how much pain K was in. I felt my friend’s relief in my own body when she said that K was going to be okay. And I felt her anxiety when she began to realize how much worse it could have been. I was tucked under a weighted blanket of empathy while I waited for that green light—I was feeling all of those feels. But, it was short-lived. My intense moments of care and concern were interrupted, somewhat jarringly, by the prolonged blare of a car horn.

Dainty Toots are Not for Everyone

At some point, during this feast of feelings, the stoplight had turned green again, unbeknownst to me. When I failed to move with adequate haste, my inertia proved to be too much for the poor soul behind me. The ‘green-means-go reminder’ that she provided was an auditory equivalent of this:

I mean. Miss Honkers could have opted for a dainty “toot” which, everyone knows translates to:

“Umm. Heyyyyyyy. You want to go now? Orrrrrrrrrr…..?”

But, there we were. And, since I have been practicing #Boundaries and allowing people the space to be upset with me without being defensive, or anxious, I let it roll and I moved along. Also, though I was fairly confident in my ability to decipher the meaning of her ‘horn-i-ness’, she doubled down by offering a heartfelt gesture of her love out of the car window as she passed.

Naturally, I should not have been on my phone; it’s my job to be aware of my surroundings while operating my car. But I had to giggle about how big her demonstration of feelings was over a sin that seemed so small (to me). She must have been having an awful day. But the lesson that I have been presented with many times, recently, is that we are each, usually, only ever hearing our own story.

She had no idea what was going on in my car; for example, she did not know that I’m an extremely important person whose literal soul was being discussed that very day. She wasn’t aware of the flea circus or the 0.2 deduction in my müber rating. And she did not know that I was processing some feels about a scary accident for my friend. She just knew that green means go and Rhonda did not. So:

Taking an Interest in Others

I also don’t know what was going on in her car or in her day. I don’t know how many people pooped on her at work that day (and if any of these instances were literal and not figurative #NurseLife). I don’t know if her marriage counselor unknowingly peeled off the scab of a hidden middle child wound which allowed a succubus* to escape from her and freak out her husband. I don’t know if her cockapoo keeps peeing in her house despite her best attempts at the application of doggie diapers. I don’t know if her heart is hurting.

(*true story–best saved for another day)

What I do know is:

Boundaries remind me that I am *usually* safe even when others are mad at me. And that managing others’ feelings is not my job.
Someone, apparently, wants me to practice being wrong…….like, a lot.
Slowness to anger makes for deep understanding; a quick-tempered person stockpiles stupidity. Proverbs 14:29 (MSG)
And that this is who I aspire to be:

³Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. ⁴Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too.
James 2:3-5 (NLT)

So, Miss Honkers, I’ve been thinking about you. I hope your feels only improved after you mimed them for me. May you feel seen and loved with or without your car’s megaphone. Also, don’t be surprised if the next time you see me, I come prepared with one of these (#BoundariesForSale).