It's hard to be perfect

On a drive to town a few weeks ago to take Roger to dialysis, we were listening to Scriptures on Cd's, and my mind wandered a little and I began thinking about what it would take to be perfect. I wondered if I could be perfect for a day or even an hour. So right then and there, on the road, I decided to try. And I did pretty well for about five minutes before the trouble started. We were running a little bit late and needed to drive at a reasonable speed to get Roger to his appointment on time, but then we came up behind a slow-moving red convertible sports car. We followed the car patiently for several miles on the narrow, winding, mountainous road until we came to a straight-away, where passing was allowed. As we began to pass the man driving the red sports car turned in his seat and stared at us. I was surprised at the mean look he gave us as we passed him. And I was even more surprised to see his hand raised above the windshield (remember, it was a convertible) and a certain finger raised. Looking in my rear-view mirror, I could see that hand still raised long after we had passed him. Before long my surprise turned to anger. What right did he have to take such offense at being passed! The thought entered my head that I should stop, let him catch up to us and let him have it! I could feel the adrenalin taking over, hands shaking, face red and hot...I was mad and wanted to take revenge. All my thoughts about being perfect had gone out of the window. But being the chicken that I am, I kept driving and eventually cooled off, realizing that I couldn't even go five minutes without messing up.