Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCXCI

The pastor was out of town, and he had arranged for a prominent minister to fill the pulpit in his absence.  Just before he left town, he had called me and asked me to take charge of the Sunday service up until the point to where I would turn it over to the visiting minister.  Although I was still a young man at the time, I had grown up in the type of home where there was never a discussion as to whether or not we would be attending church that weekend....it was understood that we would be there, so I pretty much knew what to do and what to say.  As a result, I felt fairly comfortable with my duties that day, but that was about to change.  Although I can't fully recall just what I said, I do remember that as I was introducing the guest speaker, my tongue got tangled up, and some words came out wrong, causing me to feel totally humiliated.  As I look back on that incident, I suspect that our speaker had made similar mistakes, because he handled it perfectly, and put me back at ease.   I wish I could tell you that was the only time I've ever made a fool of myself, but if I did, I'd be lying.  I've spoken when I should've kept my mouth shut.  I've remained silent when it would have been better for me to speak.  I've laughed when I should've been somber.  I've lost my temper over insignificant incidents.  I've been guilty of being an over aggressive driver, trying to punish other drivers for their mistakes.  I've made parenting mistakes. The list goes on and on.  Although it's not proper to rejoice over the misfortunes of others, I must admit that it makes me feel much better just knowing that you've done or said things that make you feel foolish just as many times as I have.      I was reminded of that fact just recently at church when I was introduced to a lady I had never met before.  As she was attempting to tell me how happy she was to meet me, she said something that made absolutely no sense, and that made her feel flustered, which messed things up even more.  Her face suddenly turned blood red, and I could tell she was so embarrassed that she would probably never want to see me again.  I did my best to initiate a conversation that would ignore her mishap and put her back at ease, because, although she had no way of knowing what was going on in my mind, I wasn't thinking how dumb she was or laughing at her blunder...instead, I was thinking, "I need to help her get through this, because I know exactly how she feels."    They're called gaffes.  You've made them.  I've certainly made more than my share.  If you look around you, everyone else you see has done the same.  There's no way to recall all the times in my life I've wished I could go hide behind a rock or crawl in a hole somewhere, just to hide my humiliation.  Thinking back on the incident at church that Sunday so many years ago, I think I'm really glad it happened, because no one remembers it now but me, and the way our visiting minister handled it was a lesson to me in dealing with a situation like that when someone else messes up.  I've also figured out the best way to deal with it when it's me that's feeling foolish:  I tell people about it and laugh at myself.  It makes others feel better about their own stupid mistakes, and it works wonders in making me feel better about myself.   Preston