What Would Jesus Do?

Handiman and I have been blessed throughout the years with many wonderful mutual friendships. From our days in the singles group at First Baptist Franklin where we met to our current crop of buddies, we have never had a problem with the friends the other has chosen. With one glaring exception. We'll call him George.

George and Handiman have been friends for many years. I guess once upon a time George was my friend too, but in a much more casual "you're a friend of my boyfriend's so I'll tolerate you" kinda way. George has always been one of those people that seems to embody all the traits that drive me up the proverbial wall and I had to take him in small doses. Once we got married and moved into different circles George and Handiman lost touch. Too bad. I mean we would run into him occasionally and it would always be the same awkward, lame conversation that would cause me to start sweating and twitching but those encounters were few and far between. Then it happened.

When Rebekah was born we had many old friends call or come visit and each of them was very sweet and supportive. George was no exception. He came to the hospital and brought us a gift. I can vividly remember Handiman leaving me in the room alone with him for about 10 minutes. I had so much more to be angry about that day but in that moment nothing mattered more to me than getting him out of the room. You see, George isn't exactly the brightest bulb. He's always had a knack for saying the dumbest things at the worst times and being completely and utterly clueless about it. I just knew this was a goldmine of opportunity for him to spout off some ridiculous question that would make my blood boil and I was not emotionally prepared to handle it. I was really thinking more about his safety than anything because I knew what I was capable of in that moment. Thankfully, Handiman returned (surely knowing his death was imminent if he did not rescue me) and George was ushered from the room. Crisis diverted. Or so I thought.

It was just a couple of months later when I was driving with Lydia that my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number but answered anyway. It was George. I still to this day have no idea how he got my number. He was calling to check on me and see how we were doing. "That was nice " I thought. I shouldn't be so hard on George. He means well. "Yeah" he continued "I just can't believe they put you guys through all of that in the hospital. I mean, why didn't they just euthanize her?" In that moment many things came to my mind. None of them fit for print here. And none of them permissible by the Baptist church or my mother. I quickly got off the phone and drove home to inform Handiman that I was to be kept far, far away from George for the rest of this life and perhaps the next one.

Now I know forgiveness is the answer and eventually I did get around to forgiving George. I still have no desire to be within 3 feet of the man but I can't blame him for the way he is and will obviously always be. He didn't mean any harm.

This all brings me to this afternoon a good 2 years later when my phone rang again. Yep. It was George. He was calling about an invitation he received to a mutual friend's wedding. In the midst of the conversation he asked "So how are you guys? Have you had any more children since the...um....episode?" Yes he did. He called her an "episode".

So now I ask you this? If Jesus had answered the phone today, what would he have said to George? Because next time George calls, we'll be having a come to Jesus meeting.