Why Should I Show Compassion to Those Who Hurt Me?

A particularly slow driver ahead of me was lighting my fuse. “Come on, Grandma, find the gas pedal!” I said to myself. I begin mumbling and wondering why she couldn’t keep up with the flow of traffic, drive the speed limit, or pick a lane and stay in it. As soon as I labeled the driver, it struck me that I was a “Grandma” now, and I felt embarrassed as I thought about why that driver might be moving slower than was convenient for me: perhaps she was looking for a street or address, and was havin...
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