Forgiveness is complicated. One day, the birds and clouds
and sun all sing, while leaves dance to their tune, and I have finished
forgiving you. I breathe and move free of the ravages of resentment, ready for
shiny, unfettered life. Not only have I forgiven your specific actions, old and
recent, I accept your limitations, my unending expectations.
The next day, or a week later, we talk on the phone, or I
visit your house. We discuss your plan to remodel, or redecorate, or share a
meal, or take a walk, perhaps we only have a conversation. Suddenly, in response to something you say, or don't say, one of
those limitations that interferes with my expectations rears once more. In a
moment I’m ensnared, like thickened and sour milk, resentment courses through
me. Not only will you not change, a reality I thought I had accepted, you're running you nails down the blackboard in my heart yet again.
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