Today, while waiting in my car for my son to return from his day camp, I was doing some general neatening and rearranging. I came across a pile of rusty nails, 11 in total. I know exactly where these came from. You see, I carry around with me ways that I have been wronged. And these nails, they are from a gas station I patronized some months back, a gas station that I feel wronged me.
I stopped into the gas station to get my son a snack and a drink after an event. Little boy is hungry and thirsty; I act. After making our selections and paying, I noticed the bed of rusty nails I had parked in. I collected a handful of rusty nails, and went back into the store. I put them on the counter as I explained to the man that I had collected these from the parking lot, where I was parked, under my tires. As he stood, silently looking at me, I felt compelled to explain what the issue was. “They could give people a flat tire” I said. his response was simply “They are doing construction on the gas station.” He stood there, not really looking at me, just stood there. I quietly took my 11 rusty nails off of the counter between us and walked out. I share with my son as we got into the truck that we would not be going back there, that he didn’t care enough about his customers, even in a basic way. I have held true to my declaration, and have not returned, even when my gas light is on with no little bars left on my gas gauge, even though he is right by the highway right where I get on.
These 11 rusty nails here in my truck are a reminder to me that I have control of how I move forward when people have wronged me. I cannot control what others do, but I can have a say in how I move forward with it. I can decide when, if ever, I give another chance.