1 Timothy 5:13
Wouldn’t it be nice if I were to come back here after a hiatus to share something goodly? Sadly, that isn’t the case.
Woe is me. Woe, woe, woe — and shame. Heed my failings, and don’t let this happen to you!
I got together with some friends this morning for coffee at our favorite coffeeshop. We hadn’t seen each other for several weeks, thanks to strep, flus, and general busyness. It was great to catch up, laughter is indeed good for the soul.
While we were chatting, it came out that three of us have had separate dealings with a family where the daughter is a sweetheart, the husband is an easygoing chap, but the wife is a quirky, rather religious, woman. We shared incidents. We pronounced judgment. And about 15 minutes before we left, I noticed the husband was sitting at the table beside ours.
** cue my heart dropping to the floor **
I don’t think he was there when we arrived, so I’m hoping that he didn’t hear us (we weren’t speaking loudly, but who knows how loud is loud enough?).
But still. The things we said were all true, but just because something is true, doesn’t mean it ought to be said. My friend D called me twice, stressing about what might have been overheard. I’ve had a few squeals/shouts/bursts of shame throughout the day as I remember some of what was said (that’s a perk of working from home when no one else is around, you can do this and not worry anyone else about your [lack of] sanity).
We didn’t say anything mean, mind you (we aren’t harridans). But the woman is tightly strung, that is a fact. And I just imagine how I would feel if I overheard people talk about the quirks of someone in my family, and I feel shame.
Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.