It was in a passing conversation, see. Finally all the dots were connected, and I knew. I realized what her pet sin was. It was probably one she didn’t even see as I saw, considering just how conniving and blinding these tend to be.
But what’s telling is this: For at least 24 hours, I did not feel compassion for her. I didn’t pray for her. I didn’t use it to understand her more. I didn’t use it to examine my life for my own corrosive habits.
Say you’re walking down the street as a family. There on the sidewalk, an argument erupts at full volume between a couple you don’t know. She’s spewing vile obscenities and venemous accusations; he shoves and vehemently threatens her. Someone they know comes out to successfully intervene, but your kids’ wide eyes are brimming with questions. Do you
a. Cover your kids’ eyes with your free hands, and shoot the couple the evil eye as you stalk off. (Some people…! Get your act together, folks.)
b. Smile at the couple. Act like nothing happened.
![Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language](https://www.janelbreitenstein.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/love-languages-text-1.jpg "Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language")
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