Chances

Once upon a time, when I was a little girl, I believed everyone to be perfect. The most severe blows I’d received were the ones on my backside which I more than likely deserved and only hurt my ego. There was never a need to forgive and due to inherent innocence, I could not help but forget. Then I grew up.

The older I got, the harder it became to forgive people, yet the need to do so felt more imperative. The first time I remember having to forgive someone was when my cousin bit me on the arm while trying to attain his favorite toy. His mother made him apologize, which, I felt was completely vain as he said it in such a curt and insincere fashion. Despite his half-hearted apology, and my wounded limb, I didn’t hold any of it against him and we continued to play legos in the carefree way that young children tend to do.

Age brought many opportunities to exercise blind forgiveness, but the fog of my teen angst clouded my vision and made it easier to turn my back on forgiveness and join the team of angry antagonists. Over the years, I rejected the apologies of many, and with each grudge I held, my heart became heavier and emptier; a twisted paradox indeed.

A great many years later, wallowing in a swamp of self pity and loath, I went on a school retreat called Kairos. To say that everyone got the same thing out of Kairos, would be a damned lie. Kairos re-opened my eyes to the fact that no matter what, I needed to forgive people, unless I wanted to be the walking carcass I had been for years; completely numb and unable to truly love. I learned that the hard way and have since walked tall with a “free chance” sign plastered to my forehead.

Second, third, and fourth chances are great, but unless you’re a super-perfect robot, you will likely be needing more than that. Freely giving chances in the double digits is where true happiness is found. This I believe.