This is my car, and if you look closely, you’ll notice some scratches between that wheel and taillight. I was at a drive through, waiting in a long line, and a lady that was parked backed right into me.

As we met, I came face to face with a lady who was incredibly apologetic, seemingly polite and considerate. I examined my car only to find a few minor scratches, a few scratches that I probably wouldn’t even notice if they weren’t pointed out to me.

After a minute or so, I had already silently made up my mind that I wasn’t going to notify the insurance company, and I was just going to leave the scratches alone. After all, a little bit of imperfection adds character to things, I think. I didn’t want this woman to have to go through the hassle of an increase in her insurance just for something so minimal, and those scratches would be a beautiful reminder of who I had chosen to be—someone who values compassion over perfection.

The right thing to do, the logical thing to do, would’ve been to exchange information with her just in case I changed my mind. But I didn’t. Instead, I gave her my number and told her she could call me later so I would have her number. I don’t know why I made that decision; maybe a part of me wanted to see if she would do the right thing.

The truth is, if she had called me like she said she would, I would’ve told her not to worry about it anyway, but she didn’t. I realized something that day—I left that scene with a few little scratches, but my heart was untouched. That woman will have to live with a deceitful, dishonest heart. She will either feel guilt later on for wronging me, or worse, she was already so far gone that she wouldn’t even be phased by it. This is what God means when He tells us that when we slight someone, we are actually slighting ourselves. She is the one who lost, not me. In fact, I gained something that day—a beautiful reminder of who I will never be.