The Wilful Sunflower

On Saturday night, I had dinner with Janelle. After dinner, we headed to a bistro to listen to some live music.

There are two major "happening" hang-out places in town: Bangsar and Desa Sri Hartamas. Both have their share of pubs, caf駸 and bistros, and are THE places to be on a Friday or Saturday night. Janelle and I went to the latter. Wonder of wonders, we managed to get a parking spot after circling the block only once!

The music was good, and we were relaxed and contented when we left the bistro at midnight. Only to find that somebody had very cleverly double-parked behind my car. We were hemmed in!

I was parked right in front of a pool place (as in snooker, not swimming!), so we assumed the driver was probably a customer there - it would make sense for him to park right outside, so that he could also move his car if needed. The standard procedure called for some horn-blasting, to catch his attention.

We heard the deejay announce the car registration number over the PA system: "Will the owner of the car number... please remove your car!" I also saw a lady whom I thought might be the manager of the place personally circulate among the customers, asking if it was their car. But one by one, each customer denied it.

Fuming at the inconsideration of idiotic Malaysians, Janelle and I went to the two nearest pubs and had them page the car driver. Still nothing.

We decided we ought to pray. So we did.

I was SO annoyed. I was seething. This fella was blocking my car, and we didn't know where he (or she) was - for all we knew, the he might be partying the night away and we'd have to wait till the wee hours of the morning for him to emerge! I wanted to do him - or his car - a serious injury. I wished someone would ram into his car. My hands itched to put a good, long scratch on his paintwork. I contemplated calling a tow truck to tow the offending car away. Or perhaps we could smash in one of his windows, release the handbrake, and push the car to one side?

In the midst of all this vindictiveness, something (or someOne) told me I was being horribly "un-Christian". Instead of wishing him ill, you should bless him, I sensed.

BLESS him? You gotta be kidding!

I didn't want to, but I had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't come until I did.

Janelle went first - I was too irritated to say the words and mean them. But I knew I couldn't get away with that, so I did, later. VERY grudgingly, I might add! Eventually I did actually start to mean the words I was praying, even if I was still all grumbly and disgruntled.

Guess what? Just as I started to get into the swing of it, he came! See? I knew it! I knew it!!! *rolls eyes*

Janelle got out of the car and spoke to him. I was delayed coz I had to turn off the lights and the cassette player (not to mention the engine!). I was only in time to glare at him as he apologised, got into his car, and drove off. Janelle later said that I'd not been meant to speak to him and that I'd been "stopped" from doing so, with which, in hindsight, I'm inclined to agree.

I was still in a semi-foul temper when we went home. You know, I could see the humour in the situation, but I wasn't allowing myself to laugh. Instead, I was enjoying myself grumbling and complaining and muttering about the guy. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I was! I didn't want to let it go, I didn't want to feel kindly towards him or to let myself love him with the love of God. I wanted him to pay. To suffer. To learn a lesson.

I failed to extend grace to him.

Just as I think I'm "getting there", God says, "Aha! Complacency!" and shows me how far more I have to go.

Oh, that I might WANT to demonstrate His grace... next time!!! LOL