“Hey Fatso!  What’s your hurry?”  those were the words I heard one day in Junior High (Middle School to you youngsters)  It wasn’t the first time I had been called fat.  It wasn’t the last either.  But it was one I remember vividly.

It marked me, molded me and set a course in my life.  It would be the sound I would hear many times over the years to come that kept me silent and in the shadows.  Do as little as possible to keep from attracting any attention to myself – became my goal in life.  How silly our minds are – I was trying to be invisible while I was gaining weight by leaps and bounds. (*shaking my head)

I only remember one other time someone making a comment about my size after that.  It was high school and I considered the source and dismissed it because he was a dork anyways so it didn’t count.

It was the last time – until the other day.

I had gone shopping with my mother and daughter to the dollar fip flop sale at Old Navy – that alone was an experience all it’s own.  Two hours and fifteen pairs of flip flops later we were walking out of the store.  The way was clear so I stepped off the curb and proceeded to cross the street.  Suddenly a car tuned coming quickly in front of me so I stopped and stepped back.   Another and another came so I started walking in the gutter slowly waiting for the all clear. 

I saw one last car turning, knowing I would cross after them, and continued my slow shuffle.  Instead of just passing us by they turned their car at us.  I looked at the car and there was a man in the driver seat pointing his finger at me then motioning to the side walk while mouthing something.  He did this a couple more times and suddenly it dawned on me he was saying to get on the sidewalk.

Now let me describe with a little more detail where I was.  At that particular place the street is wide.  When he arrived by us there were no other cars – specifically nothing coming in the opposite direction that would have caused him to have to stop to avoid hitting us or wait for another car to pass.  He was the ONLY car in the street.  We were in the gutter, one foot on the concrete and one on the asphalt.  There could have been two cars side by side in the street and they still would have been no where close to us.  So the fact that he was almost directly in front of us could only have happened if he put his car there on purpose.

As a general rule in life, I’m a coward.  Someone says “boo” and I quickly back down.  I hate confrontations – Period.  But as that finger proceeded to gesture at me to move, my mind kept telling me to stand up for myself and dont run away.  Just ignore it and he will move on.

I shook my head and said, to no one in particular, “Don’t tell me what to do”.  Again, my mind said to just move on.  But something in me wouldn’t let it go either.  Just before he would have hit me, he turned his wheel slightly to come up beside me and began to lower his passenger window.  With that finger still going I could finally hear that he was in fact telling me to get on the sidewalk and get out of the street.

I must also interject here that I am a rules kinda gal.  I know better than to walk in the street.  Normally I would have jumped up on the sidewalk and waited there.  But while I walked in that gutter that day a strange kind of strength came over me to stand my ground.  I thought to myself that this was as good a time as any to stand up for myself and not run away from a confrontation.  (What confrontation.  The man was saying get on the sidewalk and I was saying don’t tell me what to do.  No big deal – right?)

Yes, I could have taken one step up on the sidewalk and been done with it.  But all I kept thinking was I wasn’t blocking his way and he was acting like he owned the road.  In my mind I wasn’t wrong, and for once I wasn’t going to apologize for something that wasn’t my fault. 

I can’t remember everything he said – blah, blah, blah, get out of the street.  Blah, blah, blah, get on the sidewalk.  Blah, blah, blah, whatever fatso.

And in that one moment, I was back in middle school again feeling dumb and insignificant.  There was shock on my face and no words in my mouth.  His car kept slowly rolling along and I couldn’t think of anything to say.  Finally, I stammered, “well….well…Oh that was real nice.”

I turned and crossed the street.

When I got into the car, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry – so I did both.  My mom began to defend me while my daughter sat silent in the back seat.  Bless my moms heart.  She didn’t hear what he said so I had to tell her as we crossed the street.  If he had still been there I think she would have kicked his butt!

A lot of emotions crossed through my mind in a matter of just a few moments.  Anger, frustration, disgust in him, disgust in myself, shame, guilt, laughter, pain.  But all the while I kept thinking about my daughter and how was I showing Jesus to her through this.  This was a Jesus moment for my daughter.  A chance to show her Jesus. 

I asked if she was ‘OK’ and if she was silent because she was embarrassed for me.  She quickly teared up and said yes.  I told her I wasn’t mad at the man – I really wasn’t.  I was only hurt by what he said.  I told her as I turned and walked across the street I began to pray for him.  To pray that God would bless him.  I”m normal, it hurt and part of me wanted him to hurt the way I did.  But I just couldn’t think of anything to do but pray blessing on him.

We haven’t talked about it again.  And, as I look back, the whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than a couple of minutes.  But those couple minutes will probably last a life time for me.  I’m hoping, however, that this time the marks left behind will not leave me with regret but spur me on to greater things. 

I’ve always wanted some quick witted or smartalic remark to say back to someone at just the right moment.  And even though that’s what I wanted in the heat of the moment, I’m glad all I could think of was that one line.  If I had said more, my daughter would have seen it and I would have had to live with the marks I left on her.  Instead, I believe I honored God in my silence and worshiped him with my prayers for that man.  I wasn’t right in everything I did that day but I hope somehow my daughter saw Jesus in it.