I am lucky.
If we must seek forgiveness in all we do, then I am very lucky; there are so few people in my life I have had a need to forgive. Those were mostly for small betrayals, moments or words that bruised my heart or soul, but did not do lasting damage. The hearts that make up the constellations of my sky are strong and sweet, they are inherently good.
Because of that grace, I am left with working to forgive the hardest person of them all: myself. My sins of the self list long and winding. Tonight they seem to number a small thousand. This is the first time I’ve written in weeks (forsaken my very meaning), I am not as present for my family as I want to be (turning away, however unintentionally, for those I love the most), I have stopped exercising and gained weight (a neglect of body and well being), I can’t make it to Seattle next weekend for my best friend’s choir concert (does she know how much I love her?), I am sometimes not as patient with my nieces as I want to be (I hope they can forgive me), I ask too much of my friends (will I be able to return the favors?).
It is a laundry list of transgressions marking the stones back to who I can be, slippery river rocks in a forest of my own humanity. These cairns provide lessons, some sharp and jagged, some smoother and worn from so much time. The tumbles I take must be of value, the hands emerging wet from the current on either side. Someone much more brilliant than I once wrote that when the fall is all that is left, it matters very much how one falls down. But in my time of living, the way I get back up is equally important.
So, here I am.
I will ask for patience from within.
I will strive for growth and for change.
I will sift through the sand in my days, siphoning out the grit and dirt until, hopefully, what is left is rooted in forgiveness.