The Tale of Two Fingers

It's been twelve days since I've been flipped off by an angry driver. This is noteworthy because, in 21 years of driving, I had previously been flipped off exactly twice. Once was at a gas station. I was a teenager and I still don't know what I could have possibly done, AT A GAS STATION, to warrant such behavior from a middle aged woman. It bothered me for far too long.

I don't recall the details of the second event but I was in my twenties and I probably accidentally cut the guy off. Or something. I don't know. It also bothered me for far too long so the fact that I cannot remember the details is actually a blessing for this obsessive individual.

Twelve days ago, I got the bird. But the weird thing is, just four days prior, I'd also been flipped off. After two middle fingers in 21 years of having a license, I got two more. IN FOUR DAYS. And the real kicker is that I have ABSOLUTELY no idea WHATSOEVER why either man felt the need to display his longest finger angrily in my direction.

The first situation occurred on a Wednesday. I was driving my oldest and his best friend from one extracurricular activity to another. They were in the back of the van laughing and talking and were oblivious to the whole ordeal. It was dark. I changed lanes (to a slower lane) to get onto a different freeway. The ONLY thing I can think of is that, perhaps, I was going slower than the car coming up behind me and this sent him into a state of anger reserved for only the greatest of all atrocities. I used my blinker. I checked my blind spot. I changed lanes safely. I was driving the speed limit, if not slightly faster. As I drove on in this particular lane, a truck pulled up beside me and laid on the horn for far too long. It startled me and I jumped. I thought the guy was honking at someone else (because, again with the, NO IDEA WHAT I COULD HAVE DONE thing) but he stared me down when I glanced at him so I quickly deduced that he was honking at me. He went on his merry angry way and I kept driving.

I took my exit onto the other freeway and continued to drive. About three minutes later, I began to pull up on the left hand side of a truck that was slowing down to exit. I'd moved on and didn't even realize this was Honky Truck. That is, until the driver leaned his entire upper body out of his window and began slamming the outside of his car door with his fist. He screamed at me. His face was, perhaps, the angriest face I've ever seen. Finally, after several fist punches to his car door, he jerked his hand up and stood his middle finger straight into the air. As though that wasn't enough, he reached his arm as far out of his window as he could as I passed by.

I couldn't imagine what I had done to warrant such behavior.

The following Sunday, after Troy discussed the above mentioned situation in a sermon (although he very politely omitted the flipping off portion of the event), I was driving home from church. It was broad daylight. I was not on a freeway. I was driving along minding my own business. My boys were in the back. I was in the faster of the two lanes and changed into the right lane a good and safe distance ahead of a truck pulling a horse trailer. I continued driving the speed limit, if not slightly faster. A minute or so later, we came up to a light. Behind me, I noticed that the truck and trailer moved into the left lane. We continued on. The truck changed lanes ahead of me, back into the right lane. Just ahead, he slowed to turn right. As he pulled into a turn lane, I passed by. Just as I passed, he stuck his left hand out his window and flipped me off.

"What is happening?" I yelled out to no one in particular.

"What happened?" Garrett asked.

"That guy just flipped me off," I told him.

"What? Why?" Matthew asked.

"I DON'T KNOW!"

When we got home, I had the boys run inside to get Troy--who had gotten home ahead of us with Will. He came out.

"Can you walk around the car and make sure there's nothing written on the back that says, 'Flip me off!'" There wasn't, of course, and I haven't been flipped the bird since. My name is Lori and I have been bird free for twelve days. (Hi, Lori.)

I have thought extensively about both middle finger experiences and I have no clue what I could have possibly done--in either situation--to warrant such angry expression of hostility. In my 21 years of driving, I have never once flipped off another vehicle. How mad does someone have to be? And if I've made someone that upset, shouldn't I have the slightest clue as to why?

As we approach this Christmas season, may we remember to take deep breaths, be kind, and reserve our middle fingers for people who talk loudly during theatrical productions. I'm just kidding. Keep your middle fingers down in all circumstances. Remember that Jesus came as a little tiny baby in a feeding trough so that He could one day die for our anger and our middle fingers. Treat one another with compassion and love.

Merry Christmas!

Little Sino

Last weekend, I had a few women over to watch a movie and eat too much. I was having a particularly difficult time getting Will to go to sleep because SNACKS and PEOPLE. He pulled out all the stops. He needed a drink. He needed to be rocked. He needed his foot scratched and his head rubbed and his tummy tickled. He needed his blankets to be different. Nope. Wait. They were better the first time. It was ridiculous. Finally, he asked me to sing to him.

"Sing Little Sino," he said. And he pronounced it sigh-no.

What? I thought and my brain worked double time to try to figure out what in the world he was asking for. I asked him if he meant this song and I asked him if he meant that song.

"No. Little Sino."

"Does Daddy sing it to you?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied. But Daddy wasn't home so that was hardly helpful. His frustration built because I simply couldn't figure it out. I could almost see him thinking, I cannot communicate what I mean and it is breaking my heart. I told him I'd be right back and I went down the stairs. One of my friends watches Will on Tuesdays and another one watches him on Wednesdays. They both happened to be at my house.

"Do you have any idea what Little Sino is?" I asked.

"Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star?" One of them asked, "That's what I sing to him."

"I turn on the radio," the other one replied. Neither of them had any other guesses. I figured I'd try Twinkle, Twinkle. Up the stairs I went. I began to sing and he didn't stop me so we assumed we'd figured it out.

Fast forward to the next night. He requested Little Sino again and I immediately launched into Twinkle, Twinkle.

"NO! LITTLE SINO!" he shouted.

"Oh. Is this not Little Sino, then?"

"No," he sighed. "Sing Little Sino, pwease."

Just then Matthew walked by his door. (He'd been in the basement playing video games the previous night.) "Hey, Matt, come in here." He walked in. "Do you have ANY idea what Little Sino is? He wants me to sing Little Sino and I just...I don't know what it is."

"Ummm," he thought for approximately three seconds and then he began to sing, "Jesus loves me, this I know."

"YEAH!" Will screamed.

Little ones to him belong= Little. This I know= Sino.

And there we have it folks. I've always referred to that song as Jesus Love Me but it is, in fact, Little Sino. Or at least, it probably will be to our family for a good long while.