The End of the Beginning

A small crowd gathered around Joe making it difficult for him to leave the meeting. When he finally got to the car, Joanne was sitting there with the top down. He hopped in and said, “Ready?” “Uh-huh.” Just as she put the car in drive, out of nowhere a wiry guy with unruly blond hair jumped in front of them forcing Joanne to slam on the brakes. The young man proceeded to pound his fist on the hood of her car, yelling, “Stop!” A chorus of four-letter words exploded from Joe. Joanne leaped out of the car and lurched towards the stranger, screaming, “You idiot!” Joe got out of the car and said, “Calm down, everyone.” Joanne folded her arms across her chest and said through gritted teeth, “I better not see any dents in that hood.” Joe looked the hood over, assuring her it was fine, but Joanne sucked in a deep breath and threw her arms in the air. The guy flinched. He looked like he wanted to run for the hills, and he nervously checked his phone. “Put that thing away when I am talking to you.” She put her face close to his and gave him a little poke. “You asshole! You just scared ten years off of my life!” “Hey! Back up lady, you’re in my space. You’re the scary one. I just need to talk to Joe.” He kicked her tire, stepped away and looked at Joe. “I hate to get off on the wrong foot, Joe. My name is Zack. I wanted to ask if you would be my sponsor. I was just afraid you guys would take off before I have a chance.” His striking glacier-blue, but ice-cold eyes were pleading. “They say to stick with the winners, and that would be you, Joe.” He handed Joe a piece of paper with his name and number scribbled on it. Joe took the slip of paper. “Look. Jack —” “Zack.” “Right. Sorry. Zack, let’s talk tomorrow night after the meeting?” Thanks,” he said as he tossed his sun-bleached blond hair back with a flip of his head, nodded at Joanne, and swaggered away. “Looks like the only job he has this summer is working on his tan.” Joe raised an eyebrow. “Joanne, didn’t you tell me ‘You can’t judge a book by its cover.’” “Sure, but did you see his eyes? Killer eyes. They scared me.” “You sure as hell didn’t appear scared. You looked like you were going to knock his lights out.” Joe opened the car door for her and as she lowered herself in, her face turned as red as the leather bucket seats. She looked down to avoid his eyes. “I’m embarrassed that I reacted like that. That guy triggered something in me, and I lost control. You must think I’m a lunatic.” “Yeah, but a cute one.” Joe said with a grin that couldn’t be contained. “Seriously, Joe. He seems like a wild card. Totally unpredictable.” “Oh. And you’re not?” “Well…” Joanne tried to diffuse the situation. “But I’m cute!” “This is a perfect example of what Jesus spoke against — hypocritical judging. He didn’t just say, ‘Don’t judge’. He commanded it! Why? Because he couldn’t stand hypocrites. Hypocritical judging is when we find fault with others and overlook our own faults. Let’s face it, Joanne, you were being judgmental. Before you criticize Zack, look at your own actions. You were screaming at him like a wild banshee. Then to add fuel to the fire, you got right in his face and tried to provoke him. I saw you poke him with your finger. Remember, anytime you point a finger at someone, you have three fingers pointing back at you.” “I know. It was stupid. I was wrong not to respond. I should have just paused before I spoke.” “And taken a deep breath.” “And taken a deep breath,” she repeated. “I’m addicted to reacting, it is like a power over me…all the drama.” “You can break that habit. Next time you find yourself about to react, take a deep breath, pause and ask God for His perspective. Then you can respond with responsibility.” “How’d you get to be so smart?” “Heck, I’m guilty too.” Joe smiled. “When I saw Zack all dressed in black, my first inkling was a ninja surprise attack. Did you notice that scar on his face?” “No! Where was it?” “It must have been six inches down his left cheek.” Joanne put her hand up to her own cheek, letting out a small gasp. “Imagine getting slashed in the face. The horror of it!” “Imagine being scarred for life?” “Yes, I can,” she said as she started the car. “Joanne, shut the car off, please.” He reached over and took her hand off the steering wheel. Gently, he turned her hand over. He looked long and hard at the jagged scar on her wrist. As he took a deep inhale, she groaned and stared straight ahead. “Do you want to talk about this?” Joe asked. “This? This is the result of reacting instead of responding.” Joe sighed, giving Joanne a quizzical look. “Do you want to tell me about it?” “It is a long story.”