I remember when an open microphone and a telephoto lens caught one of our presidents in an angry diatribe against some poor bumbling aide who happened to bump up against the president’s, up until then, unknown ire.

I suspect it wasn’t exactly the public image our chief had in mind to convey to the public.

Embarrassing, to say the least.

But the president shouldn’t worry too much over these inadvertent revelations of hubris. It is one thing we all have in common.

My friend Bill is a case in point. Bill shares a similar occupation to mine. Which means that occasionally we are expected to rise above our base human nature and act like God’s representatives on earth. This can, at times, be extremely difficult. Which leads us back to Bill.

One cold, stormy night...a Christmas Eve to be exact, Bill was on his way to the midnight service. The storm was at its peak. The snow was falling and streets were slick. As Bill drove carefully down the road toward the church, another car cut into his lane and forced him to swerve to avoid hitting the culprit. The swerve became a slide and before he knew it, he had made a 360 degree turn that would have made any adolescent proud.

It made Bill mad. Livid, actually. He raced after the transgressor and caught the guilty party at the next intersection. Without pausing to think, Bill flashed the universal sign of displeasure toward the driver.

Before the woman’s jaw could drop, Bill realized the error of his ways.

He also realized he was wearing his clerical collar.

I have a hunch his act of hubris ruined that woman’s Christmas Eve.

I know it ruined Bill’s...forever.

Still that sinful slip can serve as a wonderful reminder to all of us that we are all only one swerve away from the most embarrassing of actions.

Such a realization makes us a bit more reluctant to point the finger (so to speak) at others.

It also reminds me of the time when I was diligently performing my husbandly duties and attempting to repair a leaky faucet. I was attempting it with a huge monkey wrench that slipped and slashed across my knuckles. I expressed my displeasure in language evoking my days in the navy and I wasn’t even in the navy.

Instantly, my darling wife arrived to remind me that our innocent six year old daughter was only in the next room and that my outburst probably had placed a life-long detrimental effect on her emotional development.

Shamed and saddened, I entered my sweet child’s room and begged her forgiveness.

She didn’t even look up from her dolls. "Ah, Dad," she smiled, "you were only mad."

Now, whenever I encounter similar foolishness as my purple plumbing performance, whether it is among the pious or the presidential, I simply remember my daughter’s wise and wonderful evaluation.

So, no sweat Mr. President. No sweat, Pastor Bill. Believe me, we all understand.