You know in the Old Testament when God calls Moses to be the prophet for the Israelites and he kind of freaks out because he considers himself "slow of speech"? Well, I kind of wish I was a little bit more like Moses that way.
No, I don't want to be a prophet. Heavens. Can you imagine the pressure that comes with THAT job?!? No, I just wish I was a little s l o w e r of speech. Sadly, I am instead slow of thought while simultaneously being too fast of speech for my own good.
You see, I have tendency to speak first and think later. Well, this weekend I had another one of those "open mouth--insert foot" experiences that I was kind of hoping were becoming less frequent, but I was wrong. Again.
I work with three of the most wonderful women ever in our Stake Young Women's presidency. We have been together long enough to know what the other 'meant to say' when it doesn't come out right--or when it comes out (of me) down right wrong and, for the most part, these ladies overlook my stupidity with kindness and a little chuckle.
Well, I said something flippant and off the cuff without thinking it all the way through after our last YW volleyball day Saturday morning--status quo, at this point, right? But later that afternoon, I texted one of these dear friends and asked if she'd like to go to the Relief Society broadcast with me and she texted back that she wouldn't be good company. Something in the way she worded her response made me remember not only what I had said earlier but how I said it and it dawned on me--several hours too late to stop myself from saying it, of course--that what I had said may have hurt her feelings and perhaps that is why she didn't want to go.
Holy Cow.
I grabbed another friend from our presidency went to the dinner prior to the broadcast our stake hosts anyway. No more than 30 minutes after sitting down, I felt like the worst find of friend ever. I keenly felt the prompting to go to her home and ask her forgiveness. I sat through the broadcast--which in my forcibly humbled state was wonderful--and wept at the message of each speaker shared. Not to mention the stories and photos referring to a youth trek! I was the water works, in full form. But the feeling to go ask for forgiveness was a steady pounding in my heart.
As soon as I dropped off my dear friend that did take me up on the offer to go together, I stopped at the home of my friend I was so worried I had wounded. It was after 8:30 PM and knowing she was an early to bed kid of girl, hesitated a minute before screwing up my courage and knocking on her door.
It took her a minute to answer because, as I was sure she would be, she was in her pajamas and darn near ready for bed. She opened the door and immediate could read the shame on my face and graciously invited me in. I started to ask her to please forgive me for being insensitive and thoughtless and as un-Christlike as I ever had been. And I, of course, burst into tears.
We walked to her living room and sat on her couch where I told her that I had no intention of hurting her with anything I say, much less the thoughtless, stupid things. She caught me and told me that she wasn't offended or hurt and actually thought my comment--though inappropriate (another one of my natural-man "qualities") was kind of funny. Her not going with me that night had nothing to do with my comment but more to her feeling bummed out and like she wouldn't be good company to me.
Much weeping ensued. Hugs and "I love you"s were exchanged. The rift (whether real of imaginary) was healed. And much solace was given to my heart. She knew just what I needed to hear. And I am so glad I listened to the prompting, even if the offense was never taken by her.
I learn this lesson over and over again. But someday I hope it really sticks.
Yet, it's be so much easier to deal with Moses' issues. Well, just the one. Maybe.
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