mardi, juin 08, 2010
Forgiveness in E Flat
I've had occasion this week to ponder what it means to forgive.
Not I've suffered terribly -- one wasted evening does not a drama make. Just a few blog posts.
And perhaps I'm a bit less willing to reach out, a bit more suspicious with other guys for now -- expecting that they will turn on me. So the hurt is real. But to be fair, I can't lay the weight of that disillusionment on one man.
Yet it makes sense to move on -- wish the guy well and hope that we both learned something. I think I was saved some pain.
But what of the boys who left my son in tears tonight at the Little League playoffs, blaming him for missing some catches in the outfield in a game marred with poor pitching, errors, and some really juvenile fielding?
That's going to take a little longer.
I know people who thrive on a sense that they have been wronged. Endless slights...daggers between the shoulders, and a world bent on hurting them.
They can make lists, itemize, ritualize...and make life hellish for friend and bystander.
We forgive, in part, so we can move onwards.
Free ourselves by letting go of our anger against the other who has wronged us.
We forgive, it seems to me, to unchain us to show compassion, and concern, and even love, with a deeper freedom.
A freedom which perhaps we all crave, whether we confess it, or no. Yearn for that inner unleashing, but still sometimes choose to wear the manacles around our hands, our feet, our souls.
Have you had to practice forgiveness recently?
How deep was the wound?
Do you truly feel like you have put the injury behind you?