With a little time, and a little more insight, we begin to see both ourselves and our enemies in humbler profiles. We are not really as innocent as we felt when we were first hurt. And we do not usually have a gigantic monster to forgive; we have a weak, needy, and somewhat stupid human being. When you see your enemy and yourself in the weakness and silliness of the humanity you share, you will make the miracle of forgiving a little easier.
-- Lewis B. Smedes
I just turned 35. In my mind, that is when the senior center calls and asks you to join the pfeffer club, then the church asks you to bring communion to those who are housebound. "What if I'm housebound," I asked. "What if I stopped going to your church years ago?"
Housebound is where my mind is trapped, unable to grow and learn as much as I should have over these 35 years. Childish fights and sloppy insults. Each a weight pinned to a muscle, dragging down my trapezius, tightening the latissimus dorsi.
As the Desiderata says, " Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth." I'm surrendering my pride, my anger. It has done nothing for me.
I know that 35 is not old, but I am not where I saw my 35-year-old self. I did not see these freckled hands, these empty shelves. I thought there was more time to finish things. I thought I would have forever to say I'm sorry.