working out the right way

“Vengeance is mine.” It has been written.

The question is the meaning of “mine.” (Note: pronouns indeed make a difference.)

Let’s be honest; we aren’t all that good at allowing vengeance or revenge or any sense of justice be in the hands of someone else; we aren’t all that good at allowing at-first-unfair circumstances to simply play themselves out. My sense is such stems from three reasons. One, that means we would have to be patient, waiting for another judicial order to act on a timetable which they deem appropriate; two, justice in unfair circumstances may be perceived to never come; and three, different people have different perceptions of what justice actually looks like. What’s just to one may not be just to another. The specifics of appropriate restitution look different to different people.

And so, we are tempted to take justice into our own hands.

It’s the motive behind multiple movements. You know the ones… the “I’m-mad-as-hell-and-not-going-to-take-it-any-more” ones… the ones that cheer when perceived opposition finally gets their due… the ones that declare any other outcome as bad, wrong, foolish, evil, you-name-it.

“Well, it’s about time,” we like to say… “It’s about time this all worked out in the right way.”

Yes, it’s true; we aren’t very good at allowing justice to be any other than “mine.” (Pronouns make a difference.)

A little over a year ago, my second son, who had become a legal, teenage driver, welcomed a summer day long anticipated. You see, at his high school there are a limited number of student parking spots. In fact, there are not enough spots for all who desire to drive (as opposed to a respected upperclassman being spotted on the dreaded school bus… egad…).

The existing process, therefore, in regard to parking pass distribution, is that on a designated morning, the week prior to the onset of the new year, student classes individually line up with their $100 checks in order to participate in a random drawing. Be sure to take note of the word “random.” When the morning drawing commences, each class member blindly draws their specified spot from a so-called hat.

My eager teen, finally a junior, had long desired this day. “Finally,” he must have thought. And so on said morning, he was in line two hours earlier than the start time… all for a random drawing.

Much to his glee, JT was one of the first students in line. He paid his $100. Then he drew.

JT drew the second farthest away spot in the entire parking lot. Only one car would park farther away for the rest of the year.

When JT arrived back home that morning, I could tell it was one of those teenage issues that we wouldn’t be immediately discussing. He was mad — livid, arguably. Here was this day he had longed for, planned, arrived at early, and his efforts were not rewarded in any way, shape or form… how unfair!

That’s it. When a circumstance is perceived to be unfair, we lose all patience. I remember many days this past year (especially those rainy, cold ones) when JT could be heard grumbling about that stupid, unfair spot.

It’s a year later, though, and now JT is set to be a senior. This year’s graduating class has left the building, and all fun, memory-making festivities are in full swing. Last weekend, in fact, was the junior/senior prom.

Funny thing happened there, by the way… Amid all the joy and fancy dresses and dances, there are also all sorts of prizes and creative give-aways. Young JT won one thing…

A free parking pass for his senior year. “Pick Your Spot,” read the certificate.

One year later, it is his.

Respectfully…
AR