This is not the person I want to be. I don’t like the fiery anger that leaps up inside me when I look in the rear-view mirror and see another car two inches from me. I’ve tried picturing Jesus in the passenger seat. Or my father. Or a small, impressionable child. I keep the driver’s side window up, so if my hand does jut out, middle finger extended, it will hit the glass and I’ll bruise myself. That will teach me, I’ve thought.
I’ve made progress, but I still end up swearing inside the car and extending my middle finger beneath the steering wheel, where—it’s true—no one can see me. Except I see myself. I’m still angry, even if the windows are rolled up, and I’m not OK with that. I believe in the old Biblical concept about casting your bread upon the waters. What you do, what you think and feel, all comes back to you.
I have really prayed for a way to finally rid myself of this affliction. Finally, my prayer was answered.
Last night, on the “Chris Mathews Show,” Ann Coulter fired another one of her salvos—this time at John Edwards. It wasn’t enough for her to once label him with an anti-gay slur, she has now said she wished the presidential candidate had been killed in a terrorist attack. And when Elizabeth Edwards had the courage and elegance to phone in and ask her to stop, Ann laughed at her and accused her of trying to censor free speech.
All night, I thought about anger, about how it transforms any situation, and not in a good way. How it’s like a virus. How it demoralizes and wounds. At moments, I wondered if Ann Coulter ever stops, grows quiet and asks God how she’s doing here on earth, in this life that’s been given her. Does she really feel good about it? Does she go to bed at night proud of how she’s treated other people? Certainly she’s made a lot of money, but does she really feel prosperous, abundant? Isn’t true wealth about much more than money? Isn’t it also about kindness, about having a positive effect on the people around you—or at least trying to? If a child said they wished someone had died in a terrorist attack, he or she would be reprimanded and talked to very seriously about the toxicity of such remarks. When did we stop holding adults to that same standard?
But here’s the silver lining part of this story—at least for me. This morning, I had a miracle. I got into my car and the first time someone sped up behind me, obnoxiously tailgating me, I thought, how sad that this person is so impatient and driving so recklessly. The man swerved around me and went on to tailgate several other people on the road. Still I didn’t feel any anger. I believe I have finally been cured, and I have Ann Coulter to thank for it. She provided me with a stunning example of what anger can do to a human being and with the force of her example, my affliction was healed.
Now, you’re going to think I’m making this last part up, but I swear I’m not. When I was on my way home from working out this morning—in my newly healed state—I stopped at an intersection where two people were crossing in the crosswalk. They had not even gotten all the way past my car when the woman behind me began honking furiously for me to go. I looked in my rear-view mirror and it was a woman with lovely long blonde hair driving a huge Hummer. Oh my God, I thought, it’s Ann Coulter, and of course she’d be driving a Hummer. God is really testing me today. When the pedestrians were safely across the street, I drove through the intersection, and the woman screeched up beside me, window rolled down, shrieking at me. Her face was horribly contorted, although her blonde hair looked great as it blew back in the breeze. Thankfully, it wasn’t Ann. And even more thankfully, I still didn’t feel angry. I went on my way thinking how sad it is that someone with such beautiful hair makes her face so unattractive with rage. And I swore that if I ever backslide, I will faithfully think again of Ann Coulter to remind myself that anger is just not the best way to drive through life.
