I didn’t blame her for staring. 

There I was, decaf coffee spilled down the leg of my sweats, pale, dusty streaks in my knotted hair. A stained shirt—the really gruesome one I usually save for the most destructive of home-improvement projects. Dust covering every inch of my body.

Yes, there I was lounging at the local library .. in the middle of the afternoon, perusing a Jennifer Lopez interview in the latest edition of Rolling Stones magazine. Smudged reading glasses, flip flops, two-day-ago makeup.

Her eyes met mine when I looked up to turn the page. And I felt …. ASHAMED.

Embarrassed by the way I looked, self-consciously imagining what this well-dressed woman with a fresh root job and pleasant appearance may think of me.

I silently wished there was a way for me to explain why I looked as though I’d rummaged through my trash cans and was now leaving light dust imprints on the library sofa. 

“Ha, ha, ha… why do I look this disheveled in public?” I said to her in my head. 

“OMG it’s the craziest story. No, really, it's good. It involves a crawlspace mishap at home; pressurized baking soda sprayed underneath the bottom of our house by some repair guys. Can you believe it shot up through our hardwood floors? Yep. Every little crack. That’s the ONLY reason I look like this. That’s why I’m here reading a magazine with near-naked J.Lo on the cover when I'd normally be working. You just happened to catch me in the middle of a home-renovation crisis. But here I am, still smiling, #tooblessed to be stressed. Amiright?”

Of course, if I were having this conversation out loud, I’d throw in a gratuitous anecdote or two so she really understood the extent of my grace under fire. 

She’d marvel at my ability to remain so calm while all of my earthly belongings were in complete disarray. 

But before I could open my mouth to manipulate this stranger’s perception of me, I stopped.

Remembering the words I’d read a few years back, by Richard Foster.* Not word-for-word, of course, but enough of the gist that I could reacquaint myself what he said about silence and self-justification:

“The tongue is our most powerful weapon of manipulation. A frantic stream of words flows from us because we are in a constant process of adjusting our public image. We fear so deeply what we think other people see in us that we talk in order to straighten out their understanding. 

“If I had done something wrong (or even something right that I think you may misunderstand) and discover that you know about it, I will be tempted to help you understand my action.

“Silence is one of the deepest disciplines of the Spirit simply because it puts the stopper on all self-justification."

Yelp.

Smarting from this internal reprimand, I kept my mouth shut and dodged eye contact with my fellow library-goer for 15 minutes while I finished reading about J.Lo’s torrid personal life.

Then, I went home and did more clean up.

Until the dust mounds broke my vacuum. At which point I ate block cheese in front of the newly-dusted off television.

- - - - - - - -

 

*Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline.