Dear God, it’s me, not 14 year old Margaret, but forty year old me. This time I’m not asking for bigger boobs but understanding, or even questioning. How can something that was never meant to be evil or wrong, but rather a means to an end, be the bearing of such illness. How does one make the right choices, find the path with the least conflict, and yield forgiveness. What I wanted to give was closure to move forwards, in my own screwed up, path of least conflict, stupid, stupid way. Forgiveness does not come easy for most of us. Our natural instinct is to recoil in self-protection when we’ve been injured. We don’t naturally overflow with mercy, grace and forgiveness when we’ve been wronged. I didn’t know, I didn’t know on all sides, I had my way of forgiveness and it involved my body, not my heart and mind, my heart and mind had moved on, and this is what I had left to give to assuage the guilt of what I had done. Because I had recoiled in self-protection when I was injured and left a path of destruction in my wake and this was my mercy.
Of all the days, words elude me, that I may need to borrow other words. Lewis wrote in his book, “When you release the wrongdoer from the wrong, you cut a malignant tumor out of your inner life. You set a prisoner free, but you discover that the real prisoner was yourself.” Two weeks ago I set free and cut the tumor, but the tumor has now grown up elsewhere within me and within someone else, all I did was transfer the growth by choosing the wrong tools. It was not the intention and it was never meant to bring the consequences I face now.
Even when other people’s criticism is valid, it’s still hard to take. It shows us our failures in their eyes. We didn’t measure up to their expectations. We don’t want to fail them, when they are the best and truest thing, where you see a future, but your words are feeble, and emotions cannot be quantified into words and the core, your core, is in doubt, and words cannot come, just the burning to find a way to let them in so they can see, re-live through your eyes, that perception, like the written word can be construed many ways by the reader.
Dear God, I am rolling my burdens onto you. I know we never talk, I’m not even sure if you like me, but this seems to be the time and place as Buddha ascribes differently, Buddha ascribes to following the path that leads to release, which did not fare me well, and we don’t live in a Buddhist world, we live in a Christian world, where, like my mind, the world is good or bad, or one is good or bad. So it is penance I need like John 8:1-11 (it’s been a long time since I read the bible but oddly enough last time I was in a church with a Christian friend this is the verse they read and how apropos), except not from Jesus.
My Buddhist mantra says have forgiveness in your heart for anything you think you’ve done wrong . Forgive yourself for all the past omissions and commissions. They are long gone. Understand that you were a different person and this one is forgiving that one that you were. But I can’t because it’s not myself I want forgiveness and understanding from, it’s from someone else, I need forgiveness for what you call a sin. I see a future crashing down, and it’s not often I see a future, other than my kids, I don’t see future, but for once, I do, and it’s crashing down, like the tears on my face, it’s coming down faster than I can breathe and see, and I know I want it but I have no power, none at all, to help them find that forgiveness and not walk away, or close this path. I doubt the same path will re-emerge if the gate rings shut.
I own this choice, no excuses, and you have my apology but it is meaningless unless you believe in me. I ran this off in the ditch with my eyes closed. This had nothing to do with you, it’s all my short sightedness and fear. I accept responsibility and will do whatever it takes to earn your trust back one step at a time.
Dear God, it’s me, are you listening because I really need you right now.