The Heart of the Matter

I tried writing the letter over and over again. First, in red ink with its scratches, stops, and starts. Scribbles. But, I just couldn’t get it right. I searched for a new pen. A fine tip one. I think better with fine tip pens, and write more astutely. But it still wouldn’t come out as I wanted. “I care about you....you’ve meant a lot to me...I value our friendship…BUT...” I sought out new stationary. Lined pages. To help me organize my thoughts. It will be more clear this way.

I couldn’t get past the but. Everything felt like a poor excuse. No creative writing, soliloquy, new pen, or fancy paper, could soften the hurt I was about to cause. The pain. The rejection. Being the bearer of bad news has never been my strong suit. It’s nobody’s strong suit. We are creatures of habit. Status-quo. Not fixing broken things. But years passed, months, and we still didn’t know how to fix it. Fix us. This old friendship. It hung around my neck like a noose. Thick, braided rope weighing me down. Waiting to hang me up. A boulder on my back that I just couldn’t carry any longer.

Like a caged bird, we both couldn’t experience freedom; the two of us in this duo. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you”. And then I finished with a poor excuse for why I did it. It was finished. Done.  I hung both of us on a cross and took part in the metaphorical beatings. I rolled a dice placing wagers on the torn rags left behind. I pushed the rock over the tomb and wiped my hands of it. I still dream about her and our dead friendship.

Before my daughter was born, I don’t think I had ever uttered the words, “do you forgive me?” I’m sorry, sure. But not that vulnerable gesture of extending my olive branch with bowed head in grace. It’s messy this forgiveness business. Because it’s often, a two way street. And complicated.  Who hurt whom.  Who is in the wrong.  And it's never the woman staring back at us in the mirror.

It's amazing how parenting has the ability to strip us of all the excuses and pride.  It cuts through to the heart of the matter.  These little vulnerable beings see through us as I imagine Jesus would. Excuses dead before they even have the ability to slip off our tongues.  "Mommy shouldn't have yelled, I'm sorry. Do you forgive me?" and we embrace with our water calm and rested under our bridge.

I still remind myself that sometimes, regardless of effort, memories, and love, some things just naturally come to an end.  Friendships drift and change. Times and seasons.  Some are forever, and some just for your summer and spring. And it's hard to say goodbye.  To admit the brokenness.  Your own. Theirs.  Yours together.   Instead of a soft, I'm sorry.  I hope you can forgive me. It’s much easier to argue your point. Win your case. Come out on top. Because people can hurt. And softness is malleable. We do everything in skin and bones to not admit our fragile hearts.  Our incompleteness.  Our inability to save the day. We shift and avoid and squirm away from the heart of the matter.

One of my favorite old tunes, belted out at the top of my lungs with windows rolled down as I drive down dusty roads, speaks on it. On forgiveness:

“The more I know, the less I understand. All the things I thought I knew, I’m learning again.

I’ve been trying to get down. To the heart of the matter.

But my will gets weak and my thoughts seem to scatter. But I think it’s about….forgiveness. Forgiveness.

Even if, even if you don’t love me anymore.

…There are people in your life who’ve come and gone. They let you down, you know they’ve hurt your pride. You better put it all behind you baby, cause life goes on. If you keep carrying that anger it’ll eat you up inside, baby. Because the flesh will get weak and the ashes will scatter. So I’m thinking about forgiveness…forgiveness…even if you don’t love me anymore.” ~Don Henley

Regardless of how you've been hurt. Or how you’ve hurt others.  We all need forgiveness. More often than not, our own. But more than any other, from a source much bigger than ourselves who can mend our fragile hearts.  When our will gets weak.  When our thoughts seem to scatter.  Because it does. And they do. As our flesh always is weak.  He gently slips the noose off of our neck.  He unlocks our caged soul.  When we bring it to Him.  Our matters of the heart. The small ones and the really big ones that keep waking us in the night. And it's all about forgiveness.  Everyday.  You don't need to carry it anymore.

~But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us and to cleanse us from every wrong.  1 John 1:9