‘Lord, help me to keep my big mouth shut’

As I came out of Mass, I noticed a thin woman sitting on a bench, rubbing her unusually plump belly and looking pained. She was alone, so I sat down beside her and quietly asked if she needed help. “I had a bad night last night,” she said softly. And right then, the words flew out of my mouth before I could stop myself — and I broke a promise that I’d made to myself decades ago. “How far along are you?” I inquired.

I should have known better. You see, I made this promise after asking a librarian at the college where I was working, “When’s the big day?” Then I suffered the fallout.

The woman also was thin but had a rather obvious belly, so I assumed she would soon be pushing a baby stroller.

There was a deafening silence and an icy pause, then the librarian replied, “What do you mean?” I realized I was doomed, but I stumbled along with, “Uh, you know, when is your baby due?”

She then told me in no uncertain terms that she was not pregnant, just fighting off a few extra pounds. As for me, I wanted a hole to open in the ground and swallow me up — but no such luck.

It was then that I made my vow, and I have kept it even in extreme circumstances. A few months ago, for example, I encountered a young woman — married a year ago — who was wearing a billowing maternity top and toddling along slowly, while her husband was gazing at her in a concerned way.

“Anything new?” I asked with a straight face. “Why, yes, our baby is due any day now!” she re- plied, probably thinking I was blind.

As for the woman at church, she just sighed and said everyone was asking the same question — although she was not pregnant, just suffering from fluid buildup because of an illness.

There is a great virtue in discerning, as Kenny Rogers put it, when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em — and let me add to that when to remain silent and when to speak, something I’m struggling with.

For example, if I had refrained from asking about the woman’s due date, I’m sure she would have soon divulged her medical condition — and we’d both have been spared the embarrassment of my nosiness.

Clearly I should take the advice of St. Paul, who said, “Make it your goal to live a quiet life, minding your own business.”

The Book of Ecclesiastes also tells us: “There is a time to be born and a time to die ... a time to be silent and a time to speak.”

The desert monks, early followers of Jesus Christ, took a vow of silence to avoid gossiping, lying, shouting, cursing, arguing — and poking their noses into other people’s affairs.

One of these staunch fellows even put a stone in his mouth to avoid speaking out of turn. That would be an extreme measure indeed, but I wish I could stop inserting my foot firmly into my own mouth.

I promised the lady at church I’d pray for her return to health, but neglected to ask her to say one for me.

In my case, I’m petitioning the Lord to give me the sufficient grace and wisdom to know when to shut up.