A Lesson in the Target Parking Lot

     Friday night after supper at Jason's Deli with dear friends, I ran errands to Office Depot and then to Target.

     After I checked out from Target, I noticed a heavy-set, hair-thinning, awkward-walking, fifty-ish man going out the door in front of me. He seemed to have a physical (and maybe somewhat mental) impediment of some sort. His large jeans bagged on him and hung on his heavy hips. A bunch of his thin hair was plastered to the back of his head as if he had been sleeping and then rose up to come to Target. My heart went out to him.

     After he cleared the exit door into the darkness of the parking lot, he began hollering. He was talking to a noticeably mentally-challenged woman who stood by a large, old van parked in the Target handicap spot.

     He cussed the woman.
     He cussed someone she mentioned who needed a favor.
     He cussed about not wanting to pay for gas.
     He filled the night and the parking lot with profanity and anger and emotional bile.

     I shook my head as I walked past all his loud-mouthed complaining and barking. When I got to my car, I turned around for one last look. He now sat in the driver's seat with the van door open still shouting and cursing at the poor woman who had climbed into the passenger's seat.

     I was never so glad to get into my car and drive away from the intense fury and bitterness pouring out of that man. Why did he have to impose his words, profanity, emotions, and fury on all of us just trying to make it to Target and back to our cars with kids, bags, friends, and ringing/texting cell phones? Instead of PDA--public display of affection (which would have at least been more pleasant) he did PDP--public display of profanity.

     I was sad for the woman in the car who was obviously catching the shrapnel of his anger.
     Yes, the man had probably experienced rejection most of his life, probably had been abused in some sort(s) of way(s) growing up, and so on. But wouldn't it be great if he could rise above his past and his deficiency and take responsibility for himself, his feelings, his actions, his inactions, etc.

Take responsibility.


Be mature.


Work on growing and shaping the true, good, unique man that he is. . .
   and share that wonderful self
     with the passengers in his life,

           with the strangers in his nights,

               with the accusers,
                   the rejectors,
                        the elite,
the down-and-out,
       the users,
             the abusers.


It takes work,

humility,

accountability,
honesty,
self-forgiveness,
people-forgiveness,
God-forgiveness,
self-love,
people-love,
God-love,
patience,
perseverance.
    

     But the work is worth the diamond-like/gold-like value mined in a man or a woman instead of the vileness vomited forth from an angry man or woman.

    
The shouting, cussing man with baggy jeans, thinning hair, and an impediment taught me that taking personal responsibility will bring healing to me as well as to those around me.

Oh Lord God, please touch that man with your healing love and forgiveness. 

Quiet his deep anger with the deeper

love of Jesus.