S is for Shelly...and Sinner

You've heard of the 'Scarlet Letter,' right? The woman in the novel wore a large red, 'A' on her person to signify her act of adultery. 

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NASHVILLE, TN - My act so many years ago had nothing to do with adultery, but I'm walking around these days with a giant scarlet letter. Actually, scarlet probably isn't the right color. It should be something more neon, more fitting. Let's call it the Chartreuse Letter. Excuse me. The letter is 'S.'

It could stand for many things in my case. Shelly, Schneider, Sensitive, Sympathetic, Supportive, etc. You get the picture. This time, though, the 'S'  stood for SUCKER...at least I thought it did.

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In the summer of 2001, the entire family, Mimi, and Poppy included, piled into the van for a fun-filled morning at the zoo. First things first, however; we weren't going far without gasoline in the
minivan.

I saw the man out of the corner of my eye as we pulled into the gas station. We'll dub him Super Con in keeping with the 'S' theme. He pulled into the station, hopped out of a car, and walked to
another car to talk to a woman. I didn't think anything about it at the time. I parked the van and stepped out, ready to fill the tank. Super-Con approached as the pump's computer read $7.
'I hate to even ask, ma'am,' he said, looking exhausted. 'My wife ran the car out of gas. I left my wallet at home, and we need about four gallons to make it back home.'

Sirens went off in my head (another 'S' word). If the average car can travel 20 miles on one gallon of gas, this guy was 80 miles from home with no wallet. What didn't sound right about that? And where was the car he emerged from just minutes before? I peeked around the corner to see the little red car with the woman in the passenger's seat.

Against my better judgment, I dug into my pocket and found $4. It was all the cash I had. (Note: in 2001, gas was $1 per gallon!)

'Thank you so much', he said, quite sincerely. (If I work at this hard enough, I'll come up with a blog's worth of 'S' words!)

He returned to the pump, and then went inside the station to pay - or so I thought. Super-Con came out after a minute or two, thanked me again, and sped off in the little red car.

Something inside my gut just didn't feel right. The man was nice enough but aren't most con-artists really nice people? I replaced the gas nozzle and headed into the station to pay the
attendant.

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'The gentleman in here just a minute ago, did he pay for anything besides the $4 in gasoline?' I asked.

'He didn't have any gas at all,' answered the nice attendant behind the counter. 'He came in and asked me for the time, looked around a little, told me to have a nice day, and left.'

What a sucker I'd been! The seemingly nice and helpless man faked pumping gas, faked paying for the fuel, and very sweetly thanked me for helping.

I was seething! If I hadn't been hauling six other people in the van, I would have risked life, limb, and a few speeding tickets to track down the Super Con and give him a piece of my mind. Did he not
have a conscience? How many other people had he suckered before spotting me? Steam poured from my ears.

That very second, another 'S' word came to mind. Perhaps the best 'S' word there is - Spirit. As in Holy Spirit. I was all worked up over $4. I mean, really. How cynical had I become? (Oh, shoot! I was hoping cynical was another 'S' word, but spell check proved me wrong on that one!) I could only pray that somehow my incredibly small act of kindness might produce an extraordinary change of heart.

After all, the Holy Spirit has done greater things with much less than $4.

It would have been nice if the Holy Spirit had let me go on my merry way after that one significant (at least in my mind) realization, don't you think? But no. He asked that I take that bright spotlight I had so willingly shone on another and turn it on myself.

Why is it so simple to notice the speck in someone's eye (even a Super-Con's eye) and not see the 2 x 4 in my own? As we drove the 30 minutes to the zoo I prayed that God would forgive my pride, forgive my self-righteousness, and humble my over-inflated sense of self. It was then my eyes, stinging from the 2 x 4 I had unceremoniously plucked out of them, began to seep. The Super-Con and I had more in common than I ever wanted to admit - we were both sinners.

So much for the Chartreuse Letter standing for SUCKER. Thankfully, because of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, I don't have to parade around wearing that giant 'S' on my person. But maybe I should, if only to remind myself that I am a sinner, just like everyone else.

Embrace your Faith

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